


Let me tell you a story

by Narmie



Category: Call Me By Your Name (2017) RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Crush, M/M, Non-Linear Narrative, Slow Burn, and tbh I don't know what else, friends - Freeform, pinning
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-02
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:07:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 41,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23449768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Narmie/pseuds/Narmie
Summary: Defeated, in bad mental state and with no money Tim is forced to go back to his hometown and face the demons of his past. He will have to find the answers for questions he never dared to ask himself before.
Relationships: Timothée Chalamet/Armie Hammer
Comments: 342
Kudos: 185





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I know the summary isn't much, but I don't want to reveal too much. This is really a poor attempt on wanting to write a fic with a plot. I think it's all messy, but I hope it will be not that bad. The first chapter is more like a prologue, but why - it will get clear with further chapters. Hope you will like it.  
> Many, many thank yous to amazing and wonderful onlyastoryteller, that was kind enough to listen to me talking about it, thinking about it and trying to find the perfect plotline. And also reading it, telling me what she thinks of it and correcting my mistakes. Thank you! You're a true gem!  
> PS: It was brought up because of one song.

**7 years ago, the end of the summer**

He wasn’t really sober, but he wasn’t drunk either. Somewhere in between being utterly smashed and feeling amazingly dizzy. It was good. It felt good. He had a cup of beer in his hand, not entirely sure from where he did get that, but at this point, it wasn’t important to his fuzzy brain where it had come from. It was there and it was alcohol. So he took a sip, cringing slightly at a bitter taste of beer that invaded his taste buds. He really wasn’t a beer kind of a guy, he just preferred something that didn’t taste like piss. Although, most probably it was some cheap breed of beer, the one that high-schoolers might get from someone older. It wasn’t that bad, especially after downing six of them in quick succession.

He looked around himself, noticing people being shitfaced already, some girl running towards the bathroom, one hand covering her mouth. He cringed. He hated puking people. He let his gaze slide around, trying to find …. 

_ah, there he is_

Towering over everyone in the room, smiling broadly and playing beer-pong with some guys Timmy didn’t really recognize. But it wasn’t that important, he thought, making his way towards them, his eyes fixed on Armie and how he threw the ball, missing the cup entirely. Everyone laughed at him, but he simply shrugged and downed the beer in seconds. Sweeping a hand over his mouth to get rid of the liquid. Timmy’s inside squirmed and clenched painfully. 

_Fuck. Not now_

But then Armie spotted him and smiled, making Timmy just melt like wax under heat. He came and stood next to Armie, leaning over his shoulders, silent, sipping his beer from time to time, just relishing the proximity of Armie’s body. The warmth radiating from him. 

_Fuck. It feels good_

_Relax_ , he thought when Armie’s fingers brushed his, a featherlight touch that made his mind swirl more than all the beer he already consumed. 

_He is drunk. Everyone is. It’s all right._

It was enough for his thoughts to slip away, to let go and to lay his head over Armie’s shoulder. Breathing his scent deep into his lungs. Marvelling at this simple contact between their bodies. He wanted. 

The calmness that overtook him, was disturbed by Kelly and he cursed her because he was fucking comfortable like this. Really fucking comfortable. But she wasn’t the one to take ‘no’ for an answer and before he was even aware, his brain already slow with processing things around him, he was sitting in a circle with a bunch of people that just like he were sober enough to play. And of course, it had to be this stupid game truth or dare, that no one really played anymore, sans drunk highschool girls that wanted some juicy things to giggle about. He just hoped that everyone was in the worse state than he was and wouldn't remember anything if he would embarrass himself. Or rather when. Because let’s face it he always did. 

Naturally, Kelly was first to spin the bottle, making his attention snap to the reality and what was happening, because he would embarrass himself quicker than he thought when lost in thoughts. It landed on some boy with short brown hair that Timmy didn’t even recognize. He waited for him to decide ‘truth’ or ‘dare’ when they both suddenly stood up, left the circle and entered a walk-in closet. Just when the door clicked shut after them, he realized what sort of game they were playing. 

_Fuck_

He squirmed in place, his skin hot and itching, his insides painfully clenching, his hands began to shake. He hated that fucking game. Not only he had to kiss a stranger, someone he didn’t give a fuck about when they both were shitfaced, but reveal that he had no grace and finesse when it came to kissing. Because he never kissed anyone. 

_Fucking first kisses_.

There was suddenly a warm and big hand on his knee, brushing it gently and he startled firstly, already lost in thoughts.

“Everything fine?” Armie asked, his gaze swiping softly over Timmy’s frame to land on his eyes

“Yeah” he breathed out, but he couldn’t fool anyone that paid him any attention that everything was fine. He was stressing over some stupid kissing, his hands shaking, so he just hid them under the long sleeve of his hoodie. Thankful for this small mercy. But he couldn’t deny reality. Sooner or later, he would have to get up and walk inside that closet, with someone else following him closely. And he wasn’t fucking ready. But he couldn’t also get up now and say he didn’t feel like playing. It would be simply obvious, that he felt uncomfortable, that he didn’t want to do it. And that could only end up badly. 

_Stupid, stupid, stupid._

He hadn’t even noticed when Kelly walked out of the closet and sat down again, the lucky (or unlucky) guy following her close. The small blush painting his cheeks, his eyes cast downwards, making Timmy think that kissing wasn’t the only thing that happened behind closed doors. He didn’t dare to wonder more, he was already keyed up and it was just the beginning. 

He was safe through the first few rounds, becoming aware that Kelly changed the rules slightly, most probably for her own benefit. The next person that was supposed to spin the bottle, wasn’t the only that was chosen in the previous round. Kelly simply tossed the bottle towards someone she thought was worth it, glaring around and that was enough for everyone to not raise any objections. 

“You’re next Hammer,” she said, smiling gleefully. Timmy’s insides twisted painfully. Not only he had to survive his own humiliation because of the lack of skills in kissing, but he would also witness Armie, his best friend from middle school, going with someone to that closet, kissing the shit out of them and reappearing content and proud, said person next to him blushing and satisfied. His best friend, in whom he was kinda in love. His best friend, who was the reason for his sexual crisis. His best friend whose hand was on Timmy’s knee, gently gripping, the warmth radiating from the touch.

Timmy turned to face him, catching Armie’s eyes shining softly in the dim light and he was looking at him, lips tugged upwards in a tender smile. While Timmy always had a tendency to be touchy when drunk, Armie always got soft and delicate, all walls down, his expression open. He returned the smile, his lips curling in an anxious manner, his fingers brushing lightly over Armie’s hand spread on his knee. He missed the contact as soon as Armie moved to spin the bottle, dreadful feeling tugging his insides as the glass rotated around them. He knew it stopped when he heard a noise from others around, his own eyes firmly stuck on Armie. He waited for them to get up and move to the closet, when nothing like this happened he looked around, but they were all looking at him. With one quick glance down he knew he was more than fucked. He snatched his eyes back at Armie, but he was just watching him, the same soft smile painting his lips, the light casting shadows on his face, but his expression remained unreadable for Timmy. Armie finally got up and moved closer, hovering over Timmy, offering his hand and Timmy placed his in Armie’s soft palm, his heart beating erratically in his chest. 

_It’s not happening. It’s just a dream_

Armie linked their fingers together and gave a little squeeze of reassurance, even though there was nothing that would help Timmy to calm down. He could feel his hands sweating and resisted the urge of rubbing them against his thighs, not wanting to lose the intimate contact with Armie. 

He was gently tugged towards the closet and his mind wasn’t registering much other than his hand in Armie’s palm, the weight of it against his own flesh, the warmth that was radiating through the small point of contact. They went inside, closed the door and darkness encompassed them. He was trying hard to breathe normally, but he could only hear his own wheezing and staccato of his heart. Armie was still holding his hand, rubbing gently small circles with his thumb.

“It’s okay,” he said, his other hand reaching Timmy’s cheek and brushing off the one lost curl, tucking it behind his ear, “We don’t need to do anything”

He felt himself smiling, taking one, two deeper breaths, praying for some miracle to happen.

“It’s not that” he dared to whisper, not wanting to disrupt the gentle silence around them. Armie moved closer, facing him now, he was sure of it, even though his eyes were firmly stuck on the floor, already adjusted to the darkness surrounding them. His heart stopped for a second when he felt Armie’s hand brushing his chin and lifting it up to look directly at him. 

“Then what is it?” he asked then and Timmy had to process his question, having already forgotten what he said earlier, confused and enveloped in Armie’s presence. Then the meaning dawned on him and he felt his cheeks burning with guilt and shame because he couldn’t tell Armie the truth. He couldn’t just say he had this massive crush on him and this was like a dream came true. Armie was his best friend for fuck sake. His rather straight best friend. And even if he wasn’t straight, Armie wasn’t into him as Timmy wanted him to be, so he should quickly come up with some believable excuse before it all comes apparent why he was so anxious. He stole a few more seconds by scratching the back of his neck, his embarrassment pouring from his pores, but Armie was still watching him expectantly, waiting patiently for an answer.

“I haven’t kissed anyone before” Timmy blurted out before he could come up with something else, something that was neither the truth and quite embarrassing as what he just said.

“Really? Armie asked, surprising Timmy with how soft and inquiring his voice sounded. As if it was a good revelation for Armie and Timmy frankly couldn’t wrap his head around it. “So you never kissed?”

“Yeah” he breathed out, his heart fluttering in his ribcage, ready to burst out from its confines when Armie resumed the ministrations of his hand, his thumb now pressing into the flesh, making Timmy bit his bottom lip to prevent a moan to escape.

“Do you want to try?”

Timmy’s heart halted to stop hearing these words resonating around him, the silence even more palpable when they faded away. His mind screamed _‘yes’_ , already eager and keen to feel Armie’s lips on his. But there was a part of him inside that stopped him from launching himself forward and attacking Armie with his usual exuberance, that part that was aware it wasn’t real. That they were forced to come here and kiss. He quickly cast those thoughts aside, leaving a vast space for his eager part to take over and simply take what it wanted. And right now, right at this moment he really wanted to kiss Armie.

“Yes,” he whispered, unable to hide the eagerness colouring his voice. Armie smiled at him, flashing his perfectly white teeth in the dark closet, showing his adorable pointy canines, urging Timmy to move and swipe his tongue over them. But he dutifully waited, giving Armie time to decide, waiting for him to make the first move and show him what to do. Timmy was almost convinced that he would make an ass of himself here. Too eager, too urgent, too zealous. 

Amie brought his hand up and brushed his knuckles gently over Timmy’s cheek, making him lean into the touch unconsciously, resulting in more heat spreading over his cheeks. Armie repeated the motion several times, goosebumps blossoming on Timmy's body under this soft treatment, then he moved his fingers down, tenderly tracing them over Timmy's bottom lip, making his breath hitch. Then he cradled Timmy’s chin lightly between his thumb and forefinger, pushing it slightly up and watching Timmy’s eyes intently as if looking for something there. He must have found it, because without muttering another word, Armie leaned down and coaxed Timmy’s lips with his. It was barely there, a featherlight touch of flesh against flesh, but it was enough for a whimper to escape past his lips. Armie’s hands pulled him more firmly, pushing close so they were almost flush against one another, his fingers scraping over Timmy’s neck, toying with the baby hair and sending shivers down Timmy’s spine. Armie kept the kiss in this tender, barely-there way and Timmy didn’t even think to change anything, all too happy and settled to let Armie lead, to do to him as much or as little as he wanted to. He must have let embarrassingly high yelp of surprise, when Armie’s tongue brushed over the seam of his lips, caressing them, his hands never stopping on touching Timmy, making exploration on their own, while Timmy’s own hands were hanging down his sides idly because he really didn’t know what to do with them. After another gentle prod of Armie’s tongue against his lips, Timmy opened them to let him inside, the first touch of Armie’s tongue against his was like discovering a new world. Multicolor, vibrant, alive. He didn’t know what he was doing but emboldened by the current situation, he moved his hands, clutching Armie’s hips and pulling them closer, the warmth sipping inside him through fingertips. He wanted to feel Armie’s bare skin against his fingers. Mimicking Armie’s movements his tongue started to stroke against Armie’s and then there was heat and hands and the blood boiling in his veins. It was a fucking-tastic kiss and Timmy simply wanted more.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here comes the second chapter of this story. I frankly hope no one would get disappointed!   
> Leave a comment and let me know!  
> As always - many thank yous to @onlyastoryteller for helping me with this story!

**Now**

Defeated. The only word that marked his coming back. The word he couldn’t get out of his head. The word that described his whole existence now. 

He was a failure. He wasn’t the young and bright man, ready for the world to fall beneath his feet. He was not the best. He was one of many. Something the big world taught him painfully and mercilessly. He tried. Then tried again. And then again. But no matter how much he tried, he was always on the losing side. Sometimes you just had to admit your own defeat and stop yourself from trying again.

Life was fucking hard. Eerily no one ever told you that. He worked hard and wanted something in return. To be seen. To be acknowledged. To be appreciated. Yet he was lost in the sea of people just like him. Dreams and hope set high. The thought of fall unbearable, just until you hit the bottom. He was just another person in the crowd, stupidly assuming he was moving against the current when in fact he let himself flow with it. It was stupid of him to hope for anything out of the ordinary happen to him. He wasn’t meant to achieve great things, he just foolishly assumed so and got burnt. Going back home with his tail between his legs was the worst-case scenario, admitting his own defeat to the whole town to see. But it was also his only option. At the top of that he had to come back to live in his parent’s house because even in that shithole of a city, rent prices were out of his range at the moment. He hadn’t lived with his parents since he’d moved out and started college, going back and living in his teenage bedroom would be a challenge. About the rest he … just simply couldn’ think about it right at the moment. 

He was packed and ready to go, the dreadful feeling swirling mercilessly in his guts, uneasiness settling deep down in his bones. Looking for the last time at his apartment, with bare walls and two suitcases at his sides, the rest of his stuff already on its way, he thought that he wasn’t really ready for the upcoming change, but he couldn’t do anything to stop it. 

The wrongness of it all was following him through his whole car ride, he knew why he was dreading coming back, but it was too much to dive deep into this whole mess he created, for that he had to face every decision he made that led him to this point and … he frankly was a coward to do that. It didn’t even get better when he pulled in front of his parent’s house and his mom embraced him in a tight and warm hug, whispering softly  _ ‘welcome back’ _ . He didn’t quite feel like coming back, more like running away. Again. Perhaps he couldn’t really stop being too afraid to face reality. 

His childhood bedroom looked almost the same, perhaps the colour of the walls faded out with time and it wasn’t anymore bright bottle-green, more like you mixed it with brown and it got this awful poo-ish colour. There wasn’t any sign of dust and his heart swelled with affection, knowing his mom cleaned here a bit, changed the sheets and let the fresh air in, so he wouldn’t have to spend the night in an ancient smelling bed with stuffy air around him. He let his gaze wander, photos in frames on the chest drawers catching his attention and he moved towards them hesitantly. A part of him didn’t want to look. There was this one in a thick golden frame with his parents and his sister when he graduated, a big goofy smile on all of their faces. Life seemed so easy then. There were a few others with his family and friends, one with him and Pau when she had him in head-lock, ruffling his hair almost an evil smile spreading over her face. And then there was a picture of them. They were standing side by side with arms around their shoulders, he was towering over Tim. They both didn’t look at the camera, but at each other and the pure bliss of joy on both of their faces, made him look away, the pang of pain going through his heart and he put the framed photo down. He took three deep breaths, before moving on and sitting on the edge of the bed. 

_ It’s a past _

He wanted it to be that. Just the past. But as much as he needed to deny it, there was a reason why he didn’t come back for all these 5 years. It even had a name.

A soft knock to the door brought him from his reverie back to the present and he didn’t even bother to say anything, because Nicole marched inside proudly as always without waiting for ‘ _ come in _ ’. A lot of rows and squabbles they had over it in his teenage years, when he wanted nothing more than privacy and being left alone, and she still treated him like her small boy, ready to kiss the cut on the knee.

“May I come in?” she asked, her hands gripping the doorframe, he nodded and she quickly made her way towards him, sitting beside him on the bed. They stayed silent for a few precious minutes and Tim could just let her serenity to wash over him, settle down in his mind and make its way to his heart.

“I’m so happy you are finally here” her tone warm and cheerful, but there was an edge of sadness in it, just a hint of disappointment. 

_ I deserve that  _

“I’m happy too” he finally responded, managing to get the words past the lump firmly stuck in his throat. He shifted and embraced his mom fully, tightening his grip over her small frame and letting himself be held like this. At least for another couple of seconds. Delaying the inevitable. He placed his head on her shoulder, relishing in her smell that hadn’t changed at all over all these years, soothing his spinning thoughts for just a fraction of the moment. She didn’t say anything, she didn’t have to, just kept him close, her fingers brushing gently over his back as she always tended to do when he needed. Up until this moment, he didn’t realize how much he fucking missed her. Her closeness, her warmth, her wisdom. And he had to bite his bottom lip, pressing his teeth harshly into the flesh to stop the tears from falling down when the realization dawned on him like a hard punch in the guts.

“I know it’s not perfect for you. Coming back here to your parent’s house, but -- “

“Can we talk about this tomorrow?” his own voice was scratchy as if he was not used to speak. His mouth strangely dry. 

_ Just a couple of minutes more _

“Of course” he heard her murmur softly.

_ I don’t deserve it _

But he let her hug him, wishing it was all it took to stop him from falling apart.

  
  


The room was too bright when he opened his eyes after another night of restless hours of sleep or trying to fall asleep. The sheets felt too stiff, the walls too distant and there was a lack of always present noise of the city. The reality slowly made itself present in his mind and he groaned. He was tired. So fucking tired. He turned to the side, blocking the sun poking through curtains, closing his eyes and wishing brutal reality to go away as if refusing to acknowledge it was enough to negate it. He squirmed, but even futile sleep didn’t want to settle over him and he sighed frustrated, sitting up on the bed, sheets pooling around his belly in a crumple of fabric. He forgot, used to his overheated apartment in the city, that it could get chilly in the house during the night, he pulled up his black hoodie, digging it from the floor next to his bed.

The only thing he wanted to do was to crawl under the covers and never come up again. But his head was too full with thoughts and the blissful sleep didn’t want to come. Facing reality seemed a far better idea than laying in bed and thinking, unable to shut his mind and drift away.

He pulled himself a bowl and poured the milk adding the cereals, not even surprised at finding everything on the same shelves as 10 years ago. He sat on the barstool, slumping over the seat and countertop, his eyes wandering around the well-known kitchen. The pale yellow covering the walls, warming the place, making it cosy. He missed this. The safety of the house. The familiarity of it. The scent that permanently percolated the walls, the same old furniture scattered around the place in a well-known way. But at the same time, he was terrified of it. He wanted hard to get out of this place. To put this whole town past him. 

“Hello, sweetheart” Nicole leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, her aroma swirling around him, bringing back the memories of carefree childhood days, spent in this same kitchen, shrieking in delight while running in circles around the kitchen island. Or how she always kissed his forehead to make everything just a bit better. He felt a pang of sadness that she couldn’t make it better this time. 

“How did you sleep?”

He shrugged, making noncommittal noise, not really wanting to tell her how he tossed around on his bed not being able to fall asleep for hours, feeling as something was looming in the nook of the room, watching him with big eyes from afar. He felt her scrutinized gaze on him when he took another mouthful and chewed for a bit just to occupy his mouth in any way as to not speak much about it. But his mom was too damn perceptive for his own rotten luck, though he believed he was immune to it now, that he mastered the ability to hide his emotions and not let people know what was going on in his head. Perhaps he was mistaken. Or perhaps she just knew him too damn well and couldn’t be fooled so easily. 

“I’ll be back around 4. Pau is coming for dinner today. Rest” she added, her voice soft and tender, she ruffled his hair in a well-known manner, before walking out and leaving him alone. 

He didn’t know what was worse. The questions that sooner or later will be asked, already dreading what Pauline might tell, or being left alone, with all those thoughts crammed in his head that didn’t want to leave him alone. 

He took his coffee in hand and snatched some cigarette from an old pack that had seen better days. He crouched, sitting on the bottom frame of balcony doors and lit up the cig, letting the smoke dance around him. It was a nice, chilly morning, rays of sun peeking through buildings and clouds. He inhaled again, holding the smoke for a few more seconds in his lungs until it burned. Until it hurt. Until it felt real. Gripping the coffee mug in hand, he let his thoughts wander. He wasn’t ready for any of this. The way Nicole looked at him before she left. How he fretted over talking with his dad. How he knew Pauline would see through his bullshit. How he didn’t want to come face to face with  _ him _ . 

_ Home sweet home. _

He didn’t know what to do with himself. The house silent around him. He hadn’t put a foot here for about 5 years now and being back didn’t quite feel right. As if he was a stranger. But there was also a deep familiarity with it. In the way every corner, every spot brought back the memories of his childhood. When Pauline was chasing him and how he hit the open drawer, cutting his skin just above his eye. Or when he was climbing his grandfather's old armchair and even though he was a tiny baby, the furniture tumbled down when he draped himself over the top part. Or that one time he was throwing little rocks in Pauline’s direction and accidentally (or perhaps not) broke the window. And as he noticed his parents didn’t bother to change that one when they renovated the house a few years prior.

He grew up here, between these walls and yet he felt like a stranger now standing in the middle of the living room. There were so many things he fucked up, suppressed, pushed to the back of his mind pretending like they didn’t happen. Paper over the cracks. It was all failing him now. Falling down on him like a house of cards.

He didn’t want to be there, but he had nowhere else to go. 

He lost. 

Breathing out he let that ache slip away 

He spent the rest of the day in his room, curled under the covers of his bed, toying with things on his phone, listening to music. Wanting any kind of distraction. Anything to pull his thoughts aside. He managed to fall asleep, getting about an hour of some rest, blissfully not having any dreams. He woke up around 6, to the sound of the front door shutting loudly. He groaned, frustrated and even more tired, rubbing his eyes to spell away the sleepiness. His stomach grumbled making him realize he hadn’t eaten anything since breakfast. He was still reluctant to go downstairs, the heavy uneasiness settling heftily in his guts. He wasn’t ready for his father’s look of disappointment. His mother’s look of pity. Or any kind of reaction that might come from Pauline, since she was really unpredictable.

He wanted to pack his things and disappear. So he did the only thing he could.

He went downstairs.

His mom was already stirring something on the stove, when he stumbled down to the kitchen, his steps cautious and muffled by his fluffy socks he found in the bottom drawer when the cold sipped through the layer of his clothing and his skin. Or was it the dread blooming inside him that did the job.

He moved closer to Nicole, wrapping his lanky arms around her small frame, bending down and breathing her in. The safe scent of lemon and mint. The warmth of her body that was radiating towards him in a span of seconds. For the first time in weeks, he felt at peace. Safe even. 

“How are you feeling?” she finally asked, disrupting the heavenly pleasant state of his mind. 

“Good,” he said hesitantly. 

Would she prefer to hear the truth? Would she want to hear how fucked up his life had become, how fucked up he made it? How he didn’t know how to reshape it into something familiar? Something he could deal with.

“Will you help me with dinner?” she inquired, swirling away from him, untwisting his hands and making to the sink, filling the jug with tap water.

“What do you want me to do?” 

He tried to give her his beaming smile, tugging the corners of his lips up, a bit of teeth peeking through, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He could feel his face muscles tensing with how faked and forced it was. 

“Set the table and I will try to think about something to throw together and call it dinner” 

He left her in the kitchen, rummaging through taperwares in the fridge.

Pauline, and he should send thanks to some God, was as always boisterous and loud. Gathering attention around herself without even realizing it. She was just bubbly, noisy and with a lot of things to say in a very short span of time. The dinner was almost --  _ almost _ \-- nice and relaxing end of the day until his dad set his fork down and looked at him. 

“What happened Timmy?”

And there it was. The cat out of the bag. The plethora of questions opened with this one. Very simple in its own structure. Very fucking problematic to respond. He really didn’t even know where he ought to start. He looked down, his gaze fixed on his plate, the half-eaten carrots, the rice swirled around, the chicken-based sauce mixed with them all. He felt nauseous, the food he managed to push into himself going up again, knotting his throat, his heart thundering against his ribcage until it hurt to have it there.

“Timmy?”

God. He hated being called ‘Timmy’ as if he was still a small child. He could feel their eyes on him. Stuck. Glued. As if with the sheer will of their gaze they could force words out of him. Or even the answers he didn’t have himself.

The worst was that he couldn’t even run because he had nowhere to go.

He straightened his posture, slowly lifting his eyes, trying to get the air inside him and stop his mind from going into haywire.

“I didn’t -- “ he started, but his voice failed him. He stopped, breathed, swallowed, not even daring to look at them. He really had no fucking idea how to wrap everything in words, without sounding like a complete failure. Which he was, but still. He wasn’t ready to see disappointment filling their eyes. “I didn’t make it. I’ve lost my job, invested money in some stupid dreamy idea I had filled with high hopes. But it didn’t work and I had nowhere to go”

He was cold, his hands trembling awfully. He could feel his anxiety soaring inside him. Standing up he left the room, trying to catch a steady breath.

He wished for a smoke right now. For the burn and bitterness of smoke in his lungs to stop his hands from shaking, his body from shivering. He hated himself for losing control over his body so easily. But he didn’t want to go back inside to fetch a pack from his room. 

“You know they are only trying to take care of you. They love you” 

She said, sitting next to him, her scent wrapping around his nostrils, familiarity waving off from her, loosening up tight knots inside him, subsiding the rising anxiety.

“I didn’t want to disappoint them,” his voice small and shaken.

“You’re a drama queen young padawan”

“You don’t even like Star Wars”

“You neither, but you didn’t hear me saying anything about it, did you?”

The silence was stretching between them as an elastic band pulled apart with fingers. 

“Listen, Timmo, you are overly dramatic about it -- and don’t interrupt me, because I still haven’t finished. I do know you. You’re my little brother and you get easily stuck in that head of yours, unable to stop your thoughts from spiralling into madness. I know you didn’t want to come back here, least of all getting back to live with mom and dad. And I do get you, I really do. But Tim, it’s not the end of the world. I know you’d love for someone like mom to be here now to comfort you and not me, the very sarcastic bitch. But it’s true. Whatever you might think right now, the world didn’t end, didn’t collapse, it’s all still going. You just have to get your head out of your ass and start doing something. If you don’t want to live with parents, then go the fuck out and get some job and rent an apartment. And then you can solve the rest of them that are crammed in your head, some of them cooked up by you I’d assume. One thing at time dear brother”

She pulled him tighter against her body, her hands snaking around his waist, hugging him closely. 

“And don’t forget I’m your bigger sister. My problems always should’ve been bigger”

An undignified snort escaped his lips, vibrating between them and loosening the seizure over his heart.

“Everything will be alright” she whispered softly to him, her breath tickling his hair.

He really did want to believe that. Too bad that he already knew that the world didn’t work like that.

**5 years ago, fall**

_ “Come on Timmy Tim. One last shot” _

_ “Another?”  _

_ “Yup”  _

_ He took the glass and downed the shot in one go, his face contorting at the burn and harsh taste of tequila. Then he laughed, gleefully and with his whole body. Armie followed suit. They were two drunk men laughing their asses off over nothing.  _

_ “What,” he asked when Armie kept on staring at him “Honestly what?!”  _

_ “Body shots” Armie answered, wiggling his eyebrows at incredulous Timmy. Before he could respond, react in any way, Armie pushed the salt towards him, making his way to the table and riding his shirt higher, exposing the golden skin and taut belly. He poured tequila to his belly-button, placing a lemon wedge between his lips. _

_ Damn it was a fucking sight.  _

_ Timmy shook himself out of retrieve of crawling on top of Armie, throwing the lemon out of the way and having his way with Armie’s very much kissable lips. He could feel his cock stirring inside his jeans at the bare thought of it. His eyes were entirely unprepared to have that much skin to drink in. Ready to taste and be devoured.  _

_ But he stopped himself in time, swallowing the salt and leaning down to get tequila out of Armies belly button, dipping his tongue in and then swallowing, before wedging the lemon, softly brushing his lips over Armies, shivering at the short touch, his body ready for much more, brain lose enough to follow his desires. But then Armie moved, forcing him to lay on a not so clean table, pushing his white t-shirt up and preparing his own shot for himself. And all Timmy could do was simply to let that happen, urges of his own body betraying him. He swallowed, hard, afraid the sound was audible despite the pounding music around them. But Armie just looked at him, smiling mischievously as if the best treat was spread in front of him, making wonders to Timmy's self-esteem. But he wasn’t that stupid to believe Armie’s hungry eyes. _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your kind comments. I hope this messy story won't be as messy as I see it and that despite everything you will enjoy it.  
> As always my great thank you for @onlyastoryteller for helping me with this

The next day was much alike the previous one, even the cereals tasted the same. Dull and bland. He was alone in the house yet again and the memories were attacking his senses and he really ought to find something to do or he would get mad in here. Taking another vast sip of his morning coffee, he contemplated what he could do around here beside sleeping. His choices were pretty limited. It was a very small city after all. 

He still hadn’t set foot outside the house. Most likely no one knew he was back and he’d rather keep it that way. He didn’t have friends here. Not anymore. He had the lion's share of the blame for that. And it stung a bit. The fact that he was alone in this, that he had no one to talk to. More so because he did that to himself, distancing from everyone, convinced he was made to win, to run the world. He placed everything in his dream, chased that desire doing everything to succeed. He pushed everyone away, isolated himself, detached from his friends and even family on his way to victory. And in the end, he was alone. In his sorrow and anguish, his body breaking under the weight of his own failures, falling into pieces while curled in a fetal position in his room, shivering, tears silently falling down his cheeks. 

He shook his head, forcing the memories to fade. Was it really helpful to ponder on them?! Was there any reason?! He couldn’t change the past even if he wanted to. Slumping onto a couch, he turned the tv on and drifted into the state of mindlessly watching, letting his mind settle on the stupidity of it.

“Oi”

“Up you go”

He looked at Pauline, his brows furrowed in lenient anger. He really just wanted to be left alone, crawled under the coverlet.

“Tim”

“What?” he snapped at her, his fist clenching and unclenching. He was tired. Of it all.

“You know what you utter ass” Pauline chastised him and he winced. She was the only one that could make him feel awful with just her tone.

The bed shifted under her weight, but he refused to look at her, the tension coiling in the air. He bit the inside of his cheek, waiting. He heard her exhaling soundly, the breath coming in a long huff. 

“Mom is worried about you”

And there it was. That guilt again, slithering under his skin, clawing at him with its sharp and rough fingers. Sometimes it felt like he was better letting it happen. To be swallowed in the midst of guilt and self-loathing. 

“Just --” she stopped again and he could almost hear her thinking what to say or perhaps how to say to not seem harsh. Even though she was always harsh and abrasive, maybe sometimes a little bit too much. He hated himself a bit more for that. That she thought she should be careful around him. “Just come on, get up and go out with me. We can meet with some friends”

“I don’t have any friends P” admitting it aloud stung, even though he realized it a long time ago. 

“You just made some shitty decisions Timo. As we all do. Now, get that head out of your ass, since we all know you’d prefer something else there and up you go. We are going out, whether you want it or not”

Sighing heavily, he wriggled out of the bed, hiding from her the soft smile tugging his lips. 

“Pau, you know it’s a bad idea. Fucking stupid one”

“Oh, don’t go into your bitchy mode right now dear brother of mine,” she said, half-mocking, half-serious “Be nice” she added before dragging him inside the wolf's den. 

They were all looking at him, shocked and surprised, the embarrassment and awkwardness almost visible around the table with only Pauline smiling at everyone and chatting mindlessly. As if everything was normal. 

“Long time no see” he winced at that, ready to turn around and leave. They didn’t want him there. It was stupid of him to hope otherwise”

“Oh lord, just sit already. We won’t eat you alive” Jake said, rolling his eyes exasperatedly, releasing some tension “But we might bite. You deserve it”

He shot Jake a thankful smile, his eyes wandering around the table. Jake, Will, Zoe, Mark, Lena.

_Fuck._

They were all here and how long had it been since he talked with them? Since he reached out and asked about their lives? Since he was interested in his own fucking friends?!

He was a twat.

The beer was doing its work, he finally felt loose, his limbs pleasantly heavy and his mind startlingly empty. He wasn’t sitting stiff and rigid anymore, holding himself out of their conversation as if wanting them to forget he was even there. But with alcohol floating in his blood and fogging his mind, it was getting harder to stay out, to not let slip a comment or two. He still felt uneasiness coiling low in his belly, not entirely sure that it would ever go away. Considering the circumstances. Yet, it was easier to breathe, when they weren’t looking with a death glare, some snarky remark on the tip of their tongues, ready to slip just because.

“Or that time when Jake pranked English prof”

And that caught his attention, his mind snapping in the conversation after drifting around the buzz of voices and alcohol. 

“He was always ready to stop classes from happening,” Will remarked, getting his bottle up and clinking it with Jake’s who was wearing his most mischievous smile, without a doubt remembering the glory days.

“Even I remember how ridiculous your ideas were” Pauline weighed in, her voice slightly tipsy, her cheeks flushed both from the alcohol and heat. 

“They were genius ones thank you very much lady always correct”

“That one time when you tuned out the principal’s microphone and when he spoke his voice sound like a high-pitched shriek”

He said without thinking, ready to laugh at it with them, but they fell silent looking at him eerily. And he knew they would never forgive him. And it was his own fault.

The outside chillness was a welcoming relief. He needed to get out of there, even for a few minutes. He leaned against the brick, letting his head fall back, breathing full and deep. Getting the fresh air into his lungs. This whole situation was fucking bizarre. They all were looking at him like that. Curiosity, hurt and reluctance. He was so utterly stupid. 

“You look like you need one”

He opened his eyes, looking at Zoe and her outstretched hand, holding a package of cigarettes towards him. He took one and lit it up using her lighter, the smoke burning his throat, swirling in his lungs until he exhaled and it spun around him, weirdly shaped until it faded away.

“They will come around” she finally spoke, holding a cig between her index and middle finger, leaning against the wall, not looking at him. He was grateful for that, he wasn’t sure if he could face her pity. She was always a sarcastic type, not a “let me comfort you with my kind words” type. He fucking missed her snark. 

“I’m not that sure about myself” 

“Because you’re pretty stupid and hurt, not able to see past your own wounds. You all just need to talk, or scream at each other, either would work. I don’t think you’re punch and blow type. Although it would be nice to see you try”

“Thanks, Zeze, you always know what to say to feel better”

“Oh don’t go softie with me. I really couldn’t give a fuck right now about your feelings Chalamet and you damn well know why you twat” her words were spoken lightly, but he could hear the tough edge sticking to them. Letting him know she wasn’t joking.

“I’m sorry” he whispered, inhaling again until it burnt until his eyes got glassy from sheer will of holding the smoke in his lungs for too long.

“I know,” she said in return, nudging his shoulder with hers, making him smile weakly despite that tight knot in his chest “I’ve fucking missed you” she whispered after a few bits of silence, interrupted only by their breathing and street noises. And he hated that she sounded so small and fragile. Not like Zoe he used to know, used to adore. The sarcastic bitch that she was. He turned to face her and pulled her tight into his arms. 

“Me too” he puffed the words softly into her wild hair. 

“If you ever do that again, I’m gonna find you and kill you and then serve your bullocks for breakfast” 

There was a fierceness in her tone, colouring the snarkiness of it. He was sure she would do it. He let her see his smile, getting eye-roll in return. She cared. A fucking lot. 

_His own Brit babe._

“I knew you were hiding somewhere” he glanced behind Zoe, seeing Lena leaning over the entrance. Her eyes assessing the situation. 

“Everything all right?” she asked, coming closer, wrapping her arm around Zoe’s waist, twisting her slightly to face her and give her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah” Zoe answered, leaning forward and giving her a soft kiss on the lips. 

_Huh. Fucking finally._

They both were looking at him as if daring to say something. Perhaps ready for an attack. He just smiled, for the first time in a long time, his lips curled upwards in a genuine smile.

* * *

  
  


Wednesdays were always his least favourite day of the week. It didn’t change through all those years. Wednesday was always in the middle, it was the worst day to wake up early, it was still two days from Friday and a blissful weekend. 

This time however he didn’t even know it was Wednesday until mid-afternoon, when his mom got back from work, rushing inside with bags from a supermarket, placing it all on the counter in the kitchen. He looked at her baffled, eating his cheese toastie because halfway through the episode of Park and Rec his stomach started rumbling loudly, so he went to the kitchen to fetch something quick but still edible.

“Dinner will be soon” Nicole chastised him and he only shrugged, he was hungry and he would probably be hungry when the dinner would be ready. At least his appetite was returning and he didn’t feel like lying all day in bed under the covers. Although, watching tv all day on some cereals and cheese toasties wasn’t that much of a difference. It was still an improvement. 

Nicole looked at him, coming closer she brushed the lost curl from his cheek, tucking it neatly behind his ear. He feared she would start asking him about his day, how it went, what he had done and he didn’t want to see her disappointment when he would say he was watching telly all damn day. But perhaps she was too perceptive or knew him well enough to not drown him with those questions.

“Get your hands clean and come help me with dinner. We can’t all eat cheese toasties”

“They are good” he responded defensively, but she gave him a stern look and he really didn’t need another word from her. 

“I have some news for you” Nicole announced after a while when pasta was happily boiling in the pot and the sauce was coming together on a slight simmer in the saucepan. 

“Hmm” he turned to face her, putting down the wooden spoon and wiping his hands in the kitchen towel

“You told me you wanted to find a job, so I asked around. And --” she added quickly, seeing him open his mouth in a protest “I managed to get you a job interview. You don’t have to say anything, just consider it alright?”

“Yeah, okay” he responded defeatedly. 

He wouldn’t be able to argue with her, besides a job offer was a good thing in his situation and he shouldn’t be offended by her actions. Even if he wanted to do it on his own. Taking actions in her own hands was always how Nicole dealt with their problems. Perhaps she had enough of him sulking around the house, looking like a sad puppy. 

“Now, get the plates. I will tell you everything after we will eat because I’m starving”

* * *

Saturday came with him hiding once again so his mom wouldn’t find him. Or was it his old room or it was the garden. She would come at him if she would see him curled in the bed at 1 pm. He couldn’t blame her for worrying about him, but he missed the times when he lived alone, with no parents to tell him what to do or worse -- just judge him from the distance. She did mean well, but he was tired of it. Hopefully, he would get that job and could start looking for some apartments around here. It was another thing, that job interview. He really didn’t know what to expect. Or how to prepare himself, since he never worked as a graphic designer. He just had a vague idea of how it was done and some courses made during his college years. He did wish for it to be enough to get the job. 

Saturday also came with Pauline and Bertie coming over. And he was fucking grateful for being able to spend his time with that beast of a dog that Bertie was. Huge, furry, cuddly labrador that could knock him over with his weight. Not that Timmy objected much, though he didn't want to end face down in the grass in the backyard, or even worse - mud. 

The sun was peeking through the dense crown of the trees that were surrounding the garden. He was sitting on the edge of the terrace, his feet dangling in the air, Bertie at his side and he was petting the golden fur mindlessly, finding the motion soothing his nerves.

“You better not be thinking of stealing my dog or spoiling him with your attitude”

“That boy needs some love, he ain’t getting it much from you” 

She quirked her eyebrows at him and he smirked at her. He really did miss their sibling banter. 

“You know that sulking won’t help you”

“And you know that you’re annoying most of the time?”

“I almost forgot it since you weren’t here to remind me of it” he faced her, guilt coiling in his belly “You should tell me to fuck off and mind my own business Timo. And not look at me like a kicked puppy”

“I’m a very much kicked puppy”

“Oh do get over yourself drama queen. Listen --” she said after a while, the soft wind brushing over their skin, gently moving the hair “I know it’s hard sometimes hearing this, but this is how it is. And you should just get over it and move on. It might not be simple, but you can’t shut down every damn time I tease you about it. That’s what I do and I don’t want to feel horrible when you look at me like that.”

“It’s just --” he stopped, not entirely aware how to phrase everything he had in his head, all those thoughts swirling around and confusing him “It’s hard. To realize what utter asshole you were to everyone around. And I don’t know how to move from this. I don’t know what to do” he confessed

“Oh man. Tim, you have to apologise to whoever you think you hurt”

“And what if they won’t forgive me?”

“Then it’s their choice. That’s not for you to decide. You can only hope for the best. But you can’t set it aside because you’re afraid of what you might hear in return. You’re not giving them a chance. You’re not giving yourself a chance.”

He leaned down, burying his face in the soft folds of fur, breathing deeply. He was a mess of a human, but he knew she was right. He couldn’t just pretend nothing happened, he couldn't just expect things to get normal again without him doing something about it. He acted like a shit person. Perhaps he didn’t even deserve to be forgiven. 

“Don’t fret that much over this interview, you know how it is around here. I’m sure you will get it”

With a gentle squeeze of his shoulder, she left him alone to get around all those thoughts. 

* * *

He ought to have said no when his mom asked him to go quickly to the supermarket. He should have said no. But how could he know? There was never any certainty he would never see _him_ again. Only the strong urge and desire to avoid him at all costs. 

_Avoiding_

He was fine with the bittersweet memories pushed to the back of his mind, trapped in the box. Or perhaps he told that to himself time and time again, ending up believing in those lies. He wanted to turn around and run, but he was caught like a deer in the headlights. The well-known blue eyes piercing through him and glueing his feet to the floor. Seeing him for the first time since all that time was like a punch to the guts for Tim. Armie was simply looking at him, recognition clear in his eyes, but the lack of shock and surprise colouring his features was very unsettling. Tim’s gaze fell down, fazed and ashamed, guilt slumping his shoulders. And then he saw her. The carbon copy of Armie, with the same blue eyes and immensely light blond hair, clutching his hand tightly, looking abashed, almost hiding behind his big frame. She was gripping the fluffy penguin and he smiled at her, even if his heart was breaking into tiny little pieces. 

He didn’t want to think that Armie moved on, that he did exactly what he urged him to do. But having this somewhere, at the back of his mind as a real possibility, was nothing like seeing this with his own eyes. The proof that had a form of a small, little human. Standing in front of him in flesh and blood. His gaze returned to Armie, questioning, asking silently. But there wasn’t any answer to him there. Just an expressionless mask. 

Biting the inside of his cheek, he started to think of something -- anything -- to say. But Armie just gave him an acknowledging nod, looked down at his daughter

_Daughter?!_

Smiled at her and with her at his side, passed Tim as if he was just some stranger. He could feel the bits of his heart shattering just like 5 years ago.

The flare of unexpected jealousy surged through him. With the same fire and strength as it always had. He cursed his weak and pathetic heart for still feeling anything for the bastard. Because Armie got everything he ever wished or asked for. And Tim wasn’t the one to be there with him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, there it's me again. I almost sound like Adele here lol. I've been struggling lately with writing in general and with this fic in particular because I want it to be good and sometimes I don't see it as good - more like boring and too slow. But I promise there is more coming and I will try to get back on my track. Meanwhile, here's the new chapter. Some mystery and some questions, some angst as well.  
> As always thank you to amazing @onlyastoryteller for always listening to my weird ideas, to my whining and to my questions. And of course for encouraging me and helping me with this! She's a goddess - check out her newest fic!

He knew it was a bad habit of his, he thought sulkily while the smoke danced around him, the sour taste of it lingering in his mouth. It started a while ago when someone just passed him the package at the party and he thought why the fuck not. But he didn’t get quite as dependent on it at the time. Only later it became a stress-relieving quirk. When his heart was pounding in his chest, his pulse beating staccato over the thinner skin of his throat, his hands sweaty and trembling. And it all slowed down, _oh so slightly_ with the first drag of smoke, the first exhale that felt like someone lifted a huge weight off of his shoulders. The tension in his tendons dissolving, seeping away with every new intake. As if smoke fumes had some magical ability. So he kept doing it. 

Until it didn’t help anymore as it used to. Until Theo. And everything that happened after. 

Shaking his head, he exhaled slowly, watching intently at the burning tip. There was no sense in reviving it now. Perhaps his childhood town had this strange effect on him and he just couldn’t stop remembering. Tossing the butt to the ground and crushing it with his foot, he thought of running away and never facing them again. It would be so easy. To just turn around. But he knew it wouldn’t be fair. Even if they would look at him with disgust and say a simple ‘ _fuck you_ ’, he should do this for his own sake. 

He pushed the door open, frowning at the unfamiliarity of the place. Perhaps some things did change. The dim lights were cast around the pub, shrouding the room in the shadows, tables and chairs scattered haphazardly around the available space. The faint music heard above the buzz of the chatter. It was inviting, to just step in, sink into a comfortable armchair and forget about constant struggles. He scanned the room, wondering if they just gave up on him and left. He wouldn’t be surprised. But something warmth fluttered in his stomach when he caught them in the far corner, bent over the table, beer in hand. He took a deep breath, knowing he wouldn’t be ready for this ever. His legs felt heavy as if blood was replaced by lead, forcing his muscles to take one step after another with a great effort.

He stopped in front of them, his resolution dissipating. 

“Hi”

“Finally,” Mark said exasperated, making a room for Tim to sit with them “You wanna some beer dude? Imma hope quickly to the loo and make a quick stop at the bar”

“Whatever beer is fine”

With a nod, Mark hurried away. 

“Will?” Tim asked Jake, a slight burn of hope fluttering inside him

“He won’t come” he sounded apologetic, but Tim knew it was his fault. With Jake and Mark, it was easier, they were never that close like he and Will. 

They knew each other since secondary school, Will was his first friend in the town after they moved here. And his only real friend for a very long time. He knew everything about his hopes and dreams, about wanting to go to New York and become someone. About his passion for photography that consumed him little by little. Will was the one hearing him venting for hours about his family, his sister, the stupid town people. It was Will with whom he got himself drunk for the first time with a stolen beer. With Will, he shared his first cigarette and it was Will that had hit him a few times after he started to choke with the first drag of smoke in his lungs. They passed evenings crammed in his room, sometimes sharing a joint when either of them was lucky enough to get some and talk. About their future, about college, about girls. It was Will who had to endure him losing his mind and getting crazy thinking he got a girl pregnant after getting some hasty blowjob from her. Will was also the only person that knew about his crush on Armie, about that first kiss in spin-the-bottle. Of what happened in the college.

“He will come around” Jake offered as words of comfort, making Timmy laugh bitterly.

“I’m not so sure about it”

“Well … he won’t come so easily, we both know it. You should make the first step, but also don’t be surprised if he will be sharp with you”

“You didn’t react the same way”

“Because I’m not Will and we both know it, mate. It’s not that I’m not hurt still. I am, but also life is too short and all that shit mate. Besides, who told you I forgave you so easily?! You won’t get away painlessly from it. Also, someone has to remind you daily what utter ass you were”

Tim smiled at him, he wanted to say something, but then Mark reappeared, beer bottles in hand and he didn’t want to dwell on it more. Especially on Friday evening. Late Saturday morning though, reminded him why he didn’t drink that much beer lately. 

* * *

He was starfished on the bed, his legs spread wide, his head turned to the side. He was simply trying not to think. But unfortunately, there was nothing else for him to do here. Since he was unemployed and living in his parents’ house. He was even feeling bad about spending all day in sweatpants in front of tv. Especially after his mother’s questions how his day went. He was feeling the energy to finally do something other than mopping, looking forward to that interview on Monday. Even if he wasn’t sure at all that he was capable of doing what was in the job description. He would figure it out. The Internet and youtube tutorials were for something after all. 

The soft knock disturbed his musings about him in front of his laptop, frantically looking for some useful videos that would tell him what to do. 

“Can I come in?” he was surprised to hear Pauline’s voice, especially because no one mentioned her coming over. But he wouldn’t say no to some cuddles with Bertie.

“Sure” he responded, pulling himself up and sitting crossed leg on the bed “What’s up?”

“Mom sent me. Apparently I’m the best person to break this news to you” she said grudgingly, sitting next to him, her hair falling over her shoulder. They were awfully long, he thought nonsensically. 

“What news?”

“About that job interview on Monday”

“Mom told me it was a vacancy for a graphic designer”

“Yeah ... it’s … it’s not about the job itself, but the company. And mom … well, she thought that was a great opportunity for you and well you know her and how she is sometimes. She thought it’s not a big deal until I told her it definitely is.”

“Well spill it out” he prompted Pauline, her hesitation making uneasiness crawling under his skin.

“It’s Hammer Estate Group”

And there it was. The cat out of the bag. He really didn’t think luck was on his side again, but this was like getting punched after being convinced the bastards run away. While they were merely looking at your pathetic figure, squirming on the ground. Deciding that you still didn’t get enough and then getting their hands on you again.

“Timmy?” Pauline tentatively inquired and only then he realized he was silent all this time, frazzled in his position, his eyes stuck on a wall behind her “Say something”

“Mom wants me to work there?!”

“You know her. And she doesn’t know the full story”

_No one knows the full story_

His mind stupidly supplied. He looked at her, ready to tell her to not say anything else, that he would just talk with their mom and say that it wasn't a job for him. That he wasn’t qualified. But something flicked in her eyes. Pity perhaps. Or maybe it was a simple sympathy. Whichever it was, caused him to stay silent. To not argue with her about this, to not say anything. Because he could end up saying more than he wanted. Revealing secrets he wanted to keep hidden. He was going to solve this. On his own. 

* * *

Zoe was always the type of friend that would listen to him whine, perhaps even cheer him on that, but would also slap him in the face with the truth to get the fuck over himself and stop being a complaining shit. She always had this amazing ability to throw some sense into him. No wonder he went to her. 

He really didn’t know how she would react to him coming to see her on Saturday night out of the blue. If she was -- in fact -- even at her apartment. Coercing Jake to spill the beans about her whereabouts, was surprisingly easy. But that was Jake, very straightforward when you ask him about anything, unable to keep your secrets because he wasn’t aware it was a secret. He wasn’t babbling around with anyone that would come across him, but when asked about it, he didn't have any problems with speaking about it. Not that Zeze’s apartment was some secret he should’ve kept, but Tim could’ve seen her being pissed and angry at him for that. They weren’t exactly on speaking terms, he and Zoe, even after they last encountered. There was also a big possibility Jake was pretty wasted already and he didn’t know quite what he had just done.

It all didn’t really matter, he realized standing in front of her door, not entirely sure it was a good decision. But he knew he wouldn’t be able to talk it through with Pauline. Zoe and she were so much alike, always a bit too harsh, more flamboyant than you would expect them to be, pretty confident in what they wanted from you. But where Pauline had troubles with seeing your point of view, always edging towards the fact that she was right -- _that she was always right_ \-- Zoe had the amazing ability to listen to you, to at least try and understand your emotions, she was good with analyzing them and then calling you on your bullshit when needed. Perhaps that was why he had come to see her, she was after all always able to cut through his layers, peel them one by one until she got to the truth.

He knocked and the sound resonated heavily in the empty corridor. A part of him hoped she wasn’t home, so he wouldn’t have to face whatever she would say to him. He was standing there feeling exactly like when you had to make this important phone-call and you know you have to do it, but you also quite didn't want to, your heart was beating rapidly inside your chest and you were filled with relief when no one answered. He was almost ready to leave, thinking to himself he went and he tried, but it wasn’t meant to be when the door slid open and she was looking at him, squinting her eyes, assessing, surprise colouring her features. She was wearing tight, black leggings matched with a grey, woolly oversized jumper that reached her mid-thighs, showing her sharp collarbones, her feet bare. Her whole demeanour was extremely soft, relaxed and at ease. He didn’t remember seeing her like this. 

“Can I come in?” she nodded affirmatively, opening the door wider to make a room for him to slip inside.

He was thinking of how to start talking about why he came to see her and what was exactly bothering him, when he stepped into the living room and was surprised by who was there, cosily sitting on the sofa. He stumbled, looked between the two of them, completely unprepared and uncertain what to do now.

“Did you see a ghost?” Lena asked from the sofa, quirking her eyebrows at him, the smirk tugging her lips

“Oh do come in and sit like a normal human being” Zoe chastised him, coming behind him and flopping on the sofa, next to Lena nestling herself on Lena’s side, urging Lena to wrap her arm around her waist. 

“You look eerily surprised,” Lena remarked, while he finally managed to shake himself out of his swirling thoughts, his mind catching the two glasses filled with red wine on the coffee table, the telly buzzing softly in the corner of the room, the dim lights cast from the candles. 

_Shitshitshitshit_

“I don’t want to disturb --”

“You’re already here” Lena cut him off, “You can at least tell us why you came. On Saturday night” She never liked him, not really, always kept the distance. Perhaps because Zeze and he were pretty tight before he left and before everything that happened. He was kinda sure Zoe knew more than she let him know thus far. Now he could finally understand why Lena was never nice to him, always with some snarky remark on the tip of her tongue, usually when he fucked something up. And it was quite often back in time. He was, after all, a stupid teenager. He was happy for them. Zoe deserved someone that would look after her every time she forgot to do it herself, she needed someone to tell her to stop and just breathe, that word wouldn’t collapse if she would stop for a second.

“Timo?” Zoe inquired softly, he breathed once, twice, his fingers tapping on his thighs, his right leg moving up and down restlessly. He hated being skittish like this.

“I have a job interview and … it’s in Hammer’s real estate”

“Ooh”

He could tell she knew, at least more than what was the average knowledge about his distancing, about Armie. She knew he had a crush on him in high school, figured it out quickly. He wasn’t good at being discreet, she told him once to his utter mortification and embarrassment. 

“And I don’t know what to do. I … I need that job but --”

“But you’re afraid. Of going straight in the lion’s mouth” he nodded, sagging under the weight of all those thoughts spiralling in his brain. He slumped in his seat, pushing his fisted hands into the pocket of his hoodie, curling his fingers inside his socks. “Armie won’t --”

“It’s not just about him” he cut in, not so gently. “You know what happened at the funeral of his mom. You know what his brother thinks of me. You know what I think of them, of what they say, I’m … I’m not sure I can do that”

“Well … and you want what from me exactly? To tell you what to do?”

“Quite airily of you” Lena chipped in from the side, he almost forgot she was even there, “I mean, isn’t it quite bold of you coming here and wanting to know what to do, just to have someone to blame later”

“Lena” Zoe spoke with a warning edging her voice. Lena huffed, perhaps annoyed and irritated, but she simply got up and left the room. 

“She still doesn’t like me”

“Nothing personal, trust me sausage, she just knows I had a crush on you when we were teenagers”

“You what?!” he screeched and cringed at the high-pitch of his voice

“Don’t be so surprised. You were quite handsome”

“And I’m not now?!”

“Well … you do lack in bits I’m interested right now, Timo”

“Ugh, TMI Zeze”

“What, you asked?!” she said, her voice bubbling with laughter “Listen,” she said after a while of silence, the tension in his shoulders rising with every second that passed “I can’t tell you what to do, because you should make this decision. But think about it differently, it’s not that you will meet them all and you will have to work with them strictly. You will be one of many. A lot of people hate their bosses, you won’t be the first nor the last one Timo. Also, don’t look at this as something final. You can accept it and then you can resign if that won’t be what you wanted. Life isn’t about making terrible choices and sticking to them”

He laughed sourly because that was how exactly his life looked. He wrapped his arms around her, breathing her lemony scent and sucking her warmth.

“But if you will ever come and blame me I’m gonna kick your ass hard”

**9 years ago, fall**

_He wasn’t really sure what he was doing here. Theatre sounded like a good idea before he got up a nerve and came here. For Tuesday’s practice. And some other rehearsals. Oh lord, why he did even think he should have some extracurricular activities. He could live happily without any additional subjects._

_He pushed the doors, sighing heavily, not ready what might be behind them. He wasn’t ready for all the hubbub welcoming him. People chatting, discussing, arguing. Speaking over one another._

_“Hi, you new?” he whipped his head around, searching for the voice and the person that said those words. For sure he wasn’t ready to find this -- him -- here. He swore at himself, even though this was the last place he could think of finding him here. He realized he had to lose himself in his thoughts again from the way Armie was looking at him._

_“Ummm … yeah, I’m new. In fact, I just came here to try”_

_“Wonderful” Armie responded, swinging his arm over Timmy’ shoulder and leading him deeper inside “I’m Armie by the way, you?”_

_“Timothée. Timmy”_

_“Cool, nice to meet you Timmy” Armie flashed him a big smile, all white teeth and wrinkles around his eyes, Tim’s inside squirmed a bit. “I’m sure you will find yourself here quite nicely. Let’s find the director of this whole show”_

_“Thanks” the relief prominent in his voice “Ummm … and nice to meet you as well Armie”_

_And there it was that smile again. Happy, big, welcoming. And Timmy let himself be pushed and guided, not entirely sure what had just happened._


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry for this huge delay, I suppose I'm still not in a good writing mood, but I had it already written so I thought why not. I'm grateful for your comments, there's especially one I think I really needed to hear to get my head out of my ass and not feel sorry for myself and my writing.   
> Thank you to @onlyastoryteller for being kind enough to help me with this story. And to her and @kendylgirl for always saying I'm not that bad in writing as I think I am.   
> Hopefully, it will be a good chapter.

He felt nauseous, his body shaking with restless energy, his skin itching, his hands trembling a bit already sweaty. It wasn’t all just the job interview. Of course, he was worried about all the questions, if he was even capable of what they expected of him, although the description he got from his mom was very vague. Perhaps there wasn’t much to fret about. Since -- frankly -- he was almost sure, everyone knew him and he would know like three-quarters of the people working there. 

_ The perks of small cities _

Sometimes hating Creeksville would come far too easily to him. That was why he moved out. To finally become one of many faces, completely disappear and be his own person. That wouldn’t be recognized by people passing him by. He wanted the anonymity that came with big cities and crowds. And yet. That was exactly what caused him to fail, wasn’t it?! Because after all, there were many faces like his, many bright and young people. Many that were chasing their dreams. Just as he did.

He came closer, letting the front door slip open, welcoming the cool air of the inside. He didn’t quite remember the interior in such black and white colours, but he was here just once and never had a need to come back again. Not after what happened. Not before as well.

_ Pull yourself together  _

Tim took a deep breath, willing his nerves to settle and marched to the reception with feigned courage. The petite blond was sitting behind the desk, her hair pulled up into a neat bun, her shirt white and crisp, tucked securely under the waistband of her navy skirt -- or at least he assumed so. The appearances were always important for the Hammers, so of course, a pretty woman had to greet customers, she had to look good and be always cheerful with a smile plastered to her flawless face. He let his gaze raked over her body, despite himself appreciating the view.

You looked at yourself. Almost every day. Thinking a myriad things about the reflection you see. About how your hair stuck out in all the wrong places, how your eyes weren’t symmetrical the way you wanted, how the wrinkles around the corners of your eyes stood out in the harsh light. Timmy always wondered what people saw when they looked at him. The soft, amiable smile that was a sign of his discomfort. How his nose scrunched at some unpleasant thought. How his brows furrowed at the moments of surprise or disbelief. He always saw a twisted reflection, there was always something that wasn’t right. He wondered if people could see this. He thought about what she was thinking about him now.

She was looking at him curiously, a gleam of recognition flickering in her eyes. There was a huge possibility they went to the same school and she was just a few classes below. People just knew each other here. Not only their respective names but to whom they were married, how many kids they had, what they were doing for a living. They all knew their own stories. And it was suffocating even now. The prying eyes never leaving him alone. Always whispering. Always judging. Always talking behind his back.

When he moved to the city, he realized -- quite brutally -- that there was something warm about it. That you knew every face, that you knew what to expect from them, that you knew who to tell your secrets. He shook his head, wishing troubling thoughts away, to leave him alone, his curls bouncing a bit at the motion. Perhaps he should get rid of them. Would be a nice change of appearance. It was something there about cutting your hair that went along with changing your life.

“I’m Timothée, I was supposed to have an interview today” he finally spoke, glad that his voice kept its usual coolness. He was ready to tuck away those feelings, to cram them once again in a box and push them away, as if they were just a faded nightmare. To not let them see ‘ _ the true you _ ’ was the first thing he learnt in New York City. Even if he failed and crumbled under the weight of his own expectations and poor decisions, lessons he learnt wouldn’t go away.

“Ah yes of course. Take the lift to the fourth floor and someone should wait for you there”

With a quick nod and briskly said ‘thank you’, he moved to the side, ready for whatever that was going to happen, aware that he was tougher than he used to be. Not a sweet child some of them could think of him as. 

His face was masked with the amicable and pleasant smile when he stepped out of the lift. 

“Timothée right?”

“Yes,” he responded, shaking the guy's hand “You’re doing the interview with me?”

“Ah no, no,” the man said with an embarrassed smile, his cheeks colouring a bit “I’m just the assistant of Tom … I mean Mr Grant’s assistant, he's the head of the stuff and will have an interview with you. This way”

_ Appearances _

He thought bitterly. It was all about appearances. 

He never liked or appreciated job interviews. They were always stressing him, mostly because some strangers were asking about his life. What he was doing, why he was doing that, where he was seeing himself in a few years. And they were asking and asking, poking around his life from all sides and angles, trying to snatch something out of him. But sitting in front of Tom Grand he didn’t feel anxious. Not because it was a sort of work he wasn’t aiming for. He still wanted to get hired. He wasn’t nervous because he got to know these kinds of men. The ones wearing a perfectly tailored suit, in some very boring colour, sitting on luxurious chairs with an easy smile on their face, making you think that they were nice, that they were rooting for you, that they even wanted to hire you. But there were glints of meanness shining in their eyes, the corners of their lips forced to stay upwards. And the more you looked the more you saw. How this all was just a façade of a rich, white man ready to crush you with the sole of their shoe. 

He was ready to play the old’s man game.

“So, from what I’ve heard you’re from here right Tim. I can call you Tim, right?!”

“Of course. And yes, I’m from here. My family lives here and I was raised here before I went to the college”

“Ah yes, of course. Very impressive by the way, the college files you emailed us. And New York City. A boy from a big world” he nodded, sensing a trap in those lines, not wanting to engage himself too much why he came back here and why he suddenly desired to work in the field he wasn't trained in. “Confirming you are from here, I can easily assume you know the Hammers?”

“Who doesn’t know them in these parts, right?!” he smiled politely, knowing what was there to come

“Ahhh of course, of course. You’re quite right” Tom confirmed overzealous, a predatory glint in his eyes

“Indeed, indeed. Quite a big name now, but --” he added after a while and stopped, brows furrowed in feigned concentration “You could … I think you could've been at the same time in school as Armie, the fortune heir”

“That is correct. He had been a class or two before me” he responded, his voice calm and collected, even if he was shaking inside. He kept his mask in place, smiling only just a bit as if to show even more he didn’t care. That Armie meant nothing. He knew how to play that game. And no showing his negative emotions was the first rule to deal with these sorts of men. The ones that were ready to rip you to pieces if they would only have a hint of your weak point. So he didn’t show any emotion at the mention of Armie’s name, just smiled and held his mask in place.

* * *

He stared at himself in the mirror, breathing deeply and focusing just on that. Not letting his mind wonder about everything else. Everything that just happened. He was sure he held through the interview, but if he would just start to think about it, for sure he would find some little slips. And he didn’t want to dwell on that. He splashed more water on his face, feeling his nerves settling once again. He knew it was irrational, especially with the fact that he wasn’t that scared of Grand and the talk they had. But something was crawling under his skin, making him restive, his fingers tapping against his leg. He was ready to get out of here.

Perhaps he should’ve been more cautious and watched where he was going instead of looking at his phone and trying to blend and not be noticed. Perhaps then he would see him in time to hide. But he was restless, not caring much about his surroundings, as if forgetting or simply not taking into account he could bump into him here. Of all the places. But when he crashed with a solid body, he hadn’t even had to look up to know who that was. The unforgettable scent, the mix of vanilla, patchouli and musk attacking his nostrils. He let his gaze wander up, finding the bluest eyes staring at him. He thought he wouldn’t see them again. And yet. They were gazing at him, with such ferocity and intensity, he was sure he would start to tremble. He wasn’t ready for all the memories that assaulted him. The gloriously naked skin spread over his grey bed sheets, the beads of perspiration gathering on the collarbones ready to be licked, the hair sticking out in all the right places. How it felt to finally sink into that delicious heat, to hear a broken sob falling from the opened mouth, to shiver under those long and thick fingers brushing his sides. And then cold sheets, empty bed and a broken heart. Not that he didn’t deserve it.

“Armie” he choked out finally, his voice sounding too small for his own liking. He should have acted better. He should have been prepared. 

“Timmy”

He could feel the goosebumps popping up on his skin, at hearing Armie’s voice, at hearing Armie saying his name. It was almost as if they had seen each other yesterday as if they talked to the late hours of the night and finally stopped after deciding to meet again in a few hours. It felt like all these years didn’t happen.

“What are you doing in here?” he asked swallowing, wishing the familiar feelings away   
“Working”

“You work here?!”

“That surprises you? That I’m working in a family business”

“You never --”

“Yeah, I know. But things changed”

Perhaps he shouldn’t have been so surprised, Armie’s family always had ways to get to him. 

“That’s … great, yeah. I’m here because …” he trailed off, not entirely sure what to say. 

“Job interview. I know” Armie supplied easily and only then Tim realized he knew all along why he was there. “I suggested it”

“What?! “How did you know? That I was back in town”

“I talk with your mom”

“With my mom?! What the fuck man?!”

“Listen, Tim, just because you decided to shut me down and forget about my existence, doesn’t mean that I should do the same. Your mom, your whole family always treated me with kindness and I had no desire to let your fucking up, ruin this for me. I’m not some shitty bastard to turn my back on people that supported me almost all my life just because you didn’t want me there anymore. ”

The guilt crept at him again, the words leaving a bitter taste in his mouth, the sharp look Armie just gave him pushing past his all defences, straight to the core. 

He wasn’t ready. For any of it. But perhaps it was time for him to hear the truth. Bare and raw. Cruel in its simplicity.

“Look, Tim,” Armie said after a while “We need an employee and you need a job. I won’t be your superior, as far as I’m concerned we don’t have to talk or exchange any pleasantries. You will just work in the same building, but it doesn’t change anything”.

Perhaps Tim wished it had. But he nodded, not able to choke out any words past the lump formed in his throat. It stung. Before, he was afraid of facing angry Armie, not sure he could deal with the ire and fury waving from Armie directed at him. But now, standing in the middle of the corridor, he thought he would prefer the rage and wrath than this. 

_ Indifference.  _

Armie’s face blank, drawn from any emotions sans politeness. He deserved it. Without a doubt. 

He still hated Armie just a little bit more because of that. 

Tim lifted up his gaze, catching Armie watching him and just for a second he saw something fierce flickering in Armie’s eyes. But it was gone within the next blink. Almost as if he dreamt it. With the final nod, Armie moved past him and Tim couldn’t stop feeling as something shifted beneath his feet. But he was too damn draught out to ponder about it. 

* * *

  
  


He wanted to talk to Will. He needed to talk to him. But he wasn’t ready for yet another brutal confrontation. His mask was already slipping away, giving the space for all the memories he thought he buried a long time ago. They were only waiting, ready to crawl back and shatter his perfectly built world. He wasn’t ready to do any of it. He might never be. To be laid bare and vulnerable. Too many times burnt, too many times hurt.

The cigarette held between his index and middle finger shook a bit and he forced his hands to stop stupidly trembling. He exhaled heavily, smoke dancing around him before fading away into the nothingness. He let the sharp, chilly air sink into his lungs, relishing in the small pain it caused him. It was time to pull himself together and not dwell on what happened. If what Armie said was true and he didn’t doubt it for a second that it wasn’t, then he had nothing to worry about. Most probably they wouldn’t see each other at all. And the rest is better buried deep inside him.

He put out the cigarette, throwing the butt away, wishing that everything could be so fucking easy.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I know. Years passed. I'm sorry. I'm still not okay in my head about the whole writing thing. It's hard to believe you can write you know.  
> Many thanks to everyone reading and commenting. And if you do read, please leave me a comment I could use one of those.  
> I will try to be more consistent, but time will tell I guess. I've read this chapter too many times and I'm still not satisfied with it - I guess I won't ever be, so be kind with me.  
> PS: I hope the pacing is okay, but I will try to speed it up

First few weeks passed quickly. It was a blur of the same activities repeated time and time again, but he couldn’t complain about it. It gave him some sort of stability that was needed after months of struggling. He could breathe -- _finally_ \-- without fretting over money he didn’t have to pay the rent, not worrying about the job once again he wouldn’t get. But unsurprisingly the novelty of his comeback didn’t fade away. Or at least not as quickly as he wished. Truth to be told, nothing really happened around here and he couldn’t stop people from wondering. He didn’t cope well with people talking about him. He never did.

And then there was work. True to his words, Armie didn’t have any contact with him, in fact, the first week of his training, he hadn’t even seen Armie at all. When he curiously asked Jill about it, she said he worked on an entirely different floor, so it was highly unlikely for Tim to see him. At least frequently. Timmy wasn’t sure how he felt hearing it. Deeply relieved he wouldn’t have to see Armie every day or disappointed he wouldn’t see him even from afar. He didn’t want to dwell on it. Why exactly he could be disappointed because that meant dealing with a mess of his tangled emotions and he wasn’t ready to do that. 

_Yet_

His betraying mind supplied. Because sooner or later he would have to. And that wouldn’t be pleasant at all.

* * *

Jill was his coworker, assigned to help him out with everything. She was the one who did a tour and introduced him to the rest of the people working on the same floor. He liked her, she wasn’t raised here as far as he could tell. She was funny and nice, sometimes getting irritated and worked up over some pretty small issues, like him asking about the same thing three times in a row. He had to get used to that, she had her snarky comments, but in the end, she was helping him with everything he asked. Her not so easy manner of dealing with people and their needs made him more self-reliable, asking for help when he really couldn’t figure it out on his own. She wasn’t the typical sunshine, complaining rather loudly about most of the things, preferring to work in solitude. She once said to him that most of the times she didn’t give a fuck of what they had to say and she preferred to ignore them than politely pretend she was interested. She wasn’t. He admired her way of living. She was truthful with people. If she was interested in their problems, she would help, but if she wasn’t … she simply wasn’t and was better to be left alone. And that could bring people to dislike her because it could be seen as being rude and mean. He was more likely to pretend than say face blank he didn’t care. Perhaps that was because his life was a mess. Perhaps because he thought more about what other people might say than what was the best for him and what he really wanted, brought him here. Where everyone thought he was just a selfish bastard. Or maybe he was one that foolishly believed his own mask of faked kindness. 

* * *

Everything was clicking into place, he thought while eyeing the apartment. It wasn’t big, by all means. It had a small kitchen which he didn’t have any problem with since he wasn’t inclined to cook at all. The bathroom had a shower and he would miss the bathtub in his parent’s house, but it looked decent and he didn’t have to do much work with it. And there was also a living room that was connected with the bedroom or at least with a place he could place a bed. Or a mattress. His budget was rather tight. He was already lucky enough his parents lent him money because he wouldn’t be able to pay for the deposit and the first month of the rent at once. Pang of guilt crawled around his heart. He had distanced himself from them, even though they hadn’t done anything wrong. He cut their calls and questions, he bailed Christmas invitations and family gatherings. And yet they hadn’t asked much when he appeared with everything he owned and occupied his bedroom once again. They didn’t demand answers, they just accepted the explanation he was able to give them and left if there, leaving it for him to come to them if he needed. They had known him too well. 

He smiled at his mom, wandering around the kitchen, not looking very pleased with the place but helping him nonetheless. He should make dinner for them, invite them here properly and say thank you even if they didn’t want to hear it. 

“You will feel lonely here” Nicole commented “Trapped even”

“He can get himself a cat” Pauline cut in, a mischievous grin colouring her features. She knew damn well he wasn't really a cat person. 

“It’ll be fine, mom” he reassured her, coming closer and wrapping his hands around her middle. She squeezed him back, perhaps not entirely convinced but letting the issue go. She wasn’t aware of how small his place in New York had been. He never really invited them. She also wasn’t aware that he was alone before coming back. Even if he had people around, he felt small and lonely. Or perhaps especially in those times, he felt alone. Because the people that came and went didn’t know him at all. Sometimes he thought he didn’t know himself.

“You sure about this?” 

“Yes mom”

He heard fear quivering in her voice. The guilt crawled tighter around his heart, its vices clenching firmer around it. It was his fault she thought he would isolate himself again. She was worried about losing him again, right after she got him back. He bit the inside of his cheek until the coppery taste of blood invaded his taste buds. He didn’t want to fall apart under guilt now. He could feel tears prickling his eyes, but he wished them away, wrapping himself around her small frame again, silently saying it would be all right. Welcoming the warmth dissipating from her. 

_It has to be_

The sweat was trickling down his spine in trails of droplets, dampening the back of his shirt in the process. The ends of his curls and baby hair around his forehead were also damp and sticking to his body in an unpleasant manner. His muscles felt sore and tired after all day of lifting boxes, going up and down the stairs, crouching and then standing up. But hefting up the mattress definitely killed him. Among all these chaos scattered across the room for the first time in a long time, he felt happiness bubbling in his veins. Perhaps even a bit of hope starting to blossom somewhere inside him as well. That everything was finally settling and he could see better things in the future for himself. Even if it sounded stupid, he was grateful for that. It seemed strange to him, building his life here. But it was how he felt it, eerily he wasn’t terrified of it.

* * *

Jake was sitting on the sofa. It came with the place. In yellowish colour darkened by the time, used and with coffee stains. It was worn out, the material broken in some places that Timmy decided to hide it beneath some coverlet. The bottle of beer was laid in front of him on the small coffee table he got from Pauline, which she dug out from her garage. Frankly, everything was second hand. The sheets mom gave him were used for guests every time anyone visited them. She also threw him some towels, tea-towels and cloths, saying she already had enough of them and he was in need. The cutlery he got from Zeze as soon as she found out about him moving to his own apartment. The two pots, one big, one small, and one middle-size saucepan that Lucy added to the pile. At least that was what Zoe said, he was suspecting Lucy was rather forced to give up on her small army of pans. There was also the rug he snatched from his childhood bedroom, thinking that it might look good in his new place and his parents wouldn’t mind if he did so. Jake came with a pretty decent bookshelf he swore to grab from his sister that supposedly was getting rid of it and he didn’t ask more. The apartment had a small chest of drawers, he was sure he would be able to fit his clothes in. So the only thing he had to buy was the mattress, for him to have something to sleep on. He decided he could worry later about a proper bed.

“You wanna go somewhere and celebrate?” Jake suggested, wiggling his eyebrows in a telling manner what he had in mind. Tim chuckled, knowing perfectly what type of celebration Jake was suggesting. Get the alcohol, get somewhere to dance, pull someone, chat them up and move somewhere more private. Jake really wasn’t a picky person. Anyone could do.

“I’m knackered. Perhaps next time” Tim responded, getting comfortable on the free spot next to him. The sofa slumping under his weight.

“You sure? I think your ass hasn't seen any action for a long time now” Tim shoved him to the side, Jake’s laugh reverberating between them.

“Oh fuck off, my ass is fine”

“It ain’t sore for sure” he stated with a serious tone, getting another punch in the arm for craning his neck in a weak effort to check Tim’s ass, currently seated on a sofa.

“You should perhaps worry more about your own butt”

“As if you didn’t know I am, thank you very much”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Timmy took another gulp of his beer, the happiness joyfully bubbling inside him. He felt as if for the first time in years he wasn’t adrift anymore and found his way in life. And he was ready to find out what it had to offer.

* * *

He wasn’t pissed for having to take care of Bertie. He was a great dog, he really didn’t have a problem when Pauline simply announced that she had to go somewhere and he would have to take care of him. She didn’t even bother to tell him where she headed off, as she phrased it ‘ _it’s none of your business_ ’. He would agree with that statement, only it stung a bit more because they weren’t as close as they used too and didn’t sound like their usual bickering. Before he would know everything just from expressions flickering over her face. Now even asking about it seems too invasive. 

All in all, it was great having Bertie around. But he detested the walks when everyone was looking at him, not even bothered to feign they were looking at something else. All those curious looks, all these whispering were driving him mad. He knew he was some sort of celebrity now. Prodigal son that finally came back to his hometown. His family. It would be talked until the novelty would wear off or something scandalous happened. That was how a small town worked. From one drama to the other. More fuss, more drama and more whispering and he was certain he brought a lot of hubbub appearing here again. He could only hope for some scandal to happen soon for people to take their eyes to another direction. 

Worst of it all was that he really didn’t have anyone to talk to about it. Or rather from all people he could talk with there was none that would understand him. They never had a problem with small cities or people gossiping about them. That was their daily occurrence, something so normal they hadn’t even seen it. It was just there. For him, it was trapping. Suffocating. But the only way was to suffer through it. And not give them anything else to talk about as well.

“Wait up big boy. My arm muscles ain’t that strong” he commented to Bertie, who was currently pushing him forward while the leash was biting into his palm. The happy boy he was that dog. He held him up for a bit, waiting till all the energy in the small dog’s body subsided for him to be able to walk. He liked to go out with Bertie even if the dog had too much energy to burn for his own good. At least it was something to break his routine. Or make another one with no visible pattern.

“Jesus, Bertie. You’re acting out like you haven’t seen the grass in the park in a month and we went there just this morning” he rubbed Bertie behind the ear, stilling him for another couple of seconds, laughter bubbling in his throat ready to spill out.

“Oh sorry” he heard, as someone abruptly stopped in front of them, while Timmy was still crouched petting Bertie. He had his words of reassurance on the tip of his tongue ready to fall down, but he stood up and fell silent. 

_What is it with me and bumping into people I don’t want to meet?!_

Will was standing in front of him, his face twisted with anger. And Timmy remembered with sadness how once they were always there for each other, secrets shared between seconds of silent nights passing around them. 

“Will”

“Tim”

It felt stiff. Bad. Bitter even. The words rolling around them as they were nothing. Meant nothing. Like they meant nothing for each other. He never thought of Will regarding him in that way. 

_To each their own._

“I wanted to --”

“Save it” Will cut him off. But he didn’t even know what he wanted to say. Apologise perhaps. Explain it even. Ask for forgiveness. Say how fucked up he was. How he missed him. Will. His best friend. He wanted to say a lot of things. None felt good enough to speak it aloud. Perhaps he still wasn’t ready for a final blow.

For not being forgiven _._

_Like a coward._

His traitorous mind supplied. 

“But I …”

“I don’t want to talk about it”

“I just --”

“You know what I don’t care”

He bypassed Tim, leaving him with the urge to run away. 

**5 years ago, summer**

_Timmy groaned, not yet ready to open up his eyes. His head heavy and pounding. Sour taste covering his tongue and his mouth dry, feeling like a cotton ball. He needed water. And some painkillers. Definitely painkillers. He shifted, his muscles worn and sore, heavy limbs t his mind couldn’t subdue in his current state. He knew, even before, he would regret getting shitfaced with Armie. But he wasn’t expecting this._

_That rum with coke was a fucking nasty thing. It slipped in easily, the bitter taste of alcohol balanced with the over-sweetness of coke. It was simple to fall down this path. Of feeling thirsty and getting one after another._

_Armie was lying next to him, facing the wall. It wasn’t the first time it happened but it still felt strange to Tim. Like he was doing something he shouldn’t. The first time they woke up together in his bed he went through not so little breakdown. It all felt wrong to him because he did have more than platonic feelings for Armie. It seemed to him as he was using Armie in some way, without Armie being aware of it. But Armie brushed it off, said they were friends and it was normal for friends to crash in each other's beds after heavy drinking. And who he was to argue with that?! Since he tumbled many times on Will’s or Jake’s bed. It was normal for them. Yet it hadn’t felt normal with Armie._

_His stomach grumbled, empty and in a need to get some sustenance. He fancied those pancakes from the diner a couple of streets away. Pancakes and scrambled eggs and strips of bacon. Something greasy to fight all that alcohol in him. But he wasn’t inclined to leave the warmth of the bed just yet. The warmth of Armie’s body next to him. How his heavy arm was slung over Tim’s waist, almost carelessly, pinning him to the mattress. The hair on Armie’s legs tickling his. Deciding that he would survive two hours more without a glass of water, he snuggled closer to Armie, refusing the guilt to nibble him._


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments.  
> I hope it won't turn into a disaster.

If he ever thought meeting Armie again would be easy, once again in his life he was utterly mistaken. It was a fine Thursday afternoon, he was sipping his coffee slowly, trying to decide if he should leave some work for the next day or just get it done today and simply pretend tomorrow he was somehow occupied. He hadn’t quite decided on either of those things, when there was a sudden hubbub around him, making his eyes snap up and look around the place. His heart stopped beating for a split of a second, watching Armie moving closer, a petite blonde trailing behind him, almost running on her heels to not lose him. His one step counting for three or even four of hers.

Timmy hated himself for acknowledging how good Armie looked. In his grey, tailored suit pants, that were hugging his legs - and his delicious ass - almost obscenely. His white, pristine shirt with the first two buttons popped open, sleeves rolled up around his elbows showing the tanned, hairy skin of his forearms. The memories assaulted him. About the same hands roaming over his body, about calloused fingers playing with his hair, stroking, flicking through them, about those legs around his thighs, the hoarse hair tickling his skin. And then his mind shifted to the scene just from a few weeks ago. To the little girl with blond hair almost like Armie’s, hiding behind his legs. And how Armie looked at her and smiled. His lips curving upwards, showing a bit of his pointy canines Tim remembered trailing with his tongue, the wrinkles blooming around Armie’s eyes, making his whole appearance even more open and vulnerable.

Tim couldn’t stop himself from imagining the lucky woman. The one that Armie chose for himself. That he chose to spend the rest of his life with. And it hurt. It ached. The idea of a faceless woman in a place he always saw himself. He was sure she was beautiful. Long and lean with auburn hair, always nice, always ready to help. Not like him. A total fuck up of a human. They had to be a little perfect family of three. 

Pang of hurt surged through his heart at the image. And then Armie looked at him sensing Timmy watching. Their eyes meeting across the room. He wanted something. Anything. Sadness. Anger. Resignation. Anything but a mask of professionalism and indifference that met him. But then Armie glanced away, leaving Timmy with unbearable emptiness. He slumped on his seat, deciding on leaving the work for tomorrow. He needed something else than to be there.

Zoe was the only reasonable option. Or any available option at all. Pauline was away, doing God only would know what exactly and Will … Will wasn’t an option anymore. Their unfortunate meeting still swirled around Tim’s head as if he could change it somehow, say something else, prove something more. He shot her a quick text while leaving work and sighed in relief getting a response from her quickly. He jumped to the shop, buying something for himself and for her to drink, deciding on adding something to snack on, since it was always nice to have snacks on hand. He bought the beer and some wine, adding some cookies he remembered she loved back in time, the pack of salty crisps, pistachios and sour Haribo jelly beans. All or nothing, he thought to himself when the man at the register looked at him funnily. There was also a huge possibility he knew Tim, something Tim didn’t want to dwell on.

“I see you came prepared,” Zoe remarked after opening the doors, the knowing smirk appearing on her face when he squeezed past her to enter the apartment, giving her a quick hug in passing. Still not entirely comfortable, remembering the times when her warmth could always calm him down when her arms would sneak around his waist making him smile.

“Is Lena here?” he asked, inquiring, convinced he wouldn’t be fully at ease with her around. It wasn’t like he had something against her, they just didn’t get along well. Not now. Not even before.

“No, you little baby” she responded, coming after him and snatching the wine and cookies from his hands, moving into the kitchen nook and getting herself a glass “You here for a talk or some chilling?”

“Maybe a little bit of both” 

She sat next to him on the couch facing him crossed-legged wine in hand, he curled his legs wrapping his hands around them, a beer bottle carefully placed on the coffee table. 

“So?? What is going on inside this pretty head of yours?” she asked when he fell silent, rubbing his hands together.

“I feel like shit, coming to you again because I just need to get this out of me somehow and all I did was to ignore you for all this time and yet here I am looking for a friend” she chuckled, he looked at her confused

“I mean, don’t get me wrong it’s nice that you’re beating yourself about it. But I won’t act like you. I’m not gonna shut you up when you clearly need someone to talk to. And I am your friend whatever that messy head of yours is telling you. So spill the tea Timo”

“You are mean, did you know that?”

“Yeah, many times. See if I care. Now get on with it”

He sighed, opening and closing his mouth a few times, surely mimicking the gaping fish out of the water, trying to say something but he wasn’t really sure what exactly he wanted to say. He took a big gulp of the beer, letting the sour taste spread over his taste buds, finding surprisingly that he really wasn’t inclined to untangle the whole mess that was currently stuck in his head. 

“You know … let’s talk about you. I’m sure you have a far more entertaining life than I do” he finally suggested, smiling when he caught Zoe rolling her eyes at him. It was better for him and for her, he thought. He wanted to hear everything about what happened when he wasn’t there for her. After all, it was time to stop focusing only on himself. His thoughts, his problems, his feelings. To get out of his egoistic cocoon he wrapped himself around and to _finally_ look at people around him. At people, he still thought about as his friends. To know what was going in their lives, to know what they felt, to know what they went through. So he stretched his legs, kept the fingers curled around the bottle and listened. 

* * *

Tim leaned towards the idea that not thinking about Armie was an insurmountable task. It was always there, at the back of his mind, a persistent itch urging him to scratch and scratch and scratch. But with all that he wasn’t ready to open the can of worms waiting for him. Yet, he couldn’t just wish those thoughts away. About Armie, about his life, his daughter, his partner. He didn’t want to risk asking anyone, aware that he could even ask Zoe and she would tell him everything he needed to know. But the problem was that he was no longer a part of Armie’s life. Not even a small part. He was just another puzzle from his past. One of many. Perhaps even not remembered. Not important. He had no rights to snoop and ask around about him, to dig around Armie’s personal life even if he was dying to know. Even when he just wanted to know every small bit that no one ever told him, because he wasn’t present to be told. 

It was Friday after work and he was ready to spend some quiet weekend at his own apartment. Perhaps looking for some stuff online to buy for his apartment to feel more like his and not another set of four walls rented to a person without a soul. As it happened with his place in New York. That despite years of living there, it never felt like his. And it struck him then when he mused about it, he was actually making attempts to build his life here. In a town, he always wanted to run from. In a shithole of a place that it always was to him. And yet, he never did anything to feel more at home in NYC like he was doing now. He let that thought drift away, compartmentalize it some other time when he would be ready for his existential life crisis. 

“Hi big guy, I’m also happy to see you,” he said to Bertie, crouching down and allowing the dog to lick his face, stroking his soft fur while Bertie was happily wiggling around him “Come on then, time for a walk before you lose your shit here. Quite literally I guess” he chuckled to himself and Bertie cocked his head, looking at him funnily as if he understood Tim’s words. He put the harness on, clicked the leash and with the last pat on the head they headed outside. Because he owed Bertie a long, proper walk he led them to the park taking the longer route since it was a pretty nice afternoon. Music was filling his ears through the headphones and he enjoyed the peacefulness of his solitude. He didn’t even pay attention to people’s eyes following him, perhaps for the first time in a while. He still had enough of it but maybe the newness of it wore off of him already. And it was just irritating and annoying. But also something he could easily block from his mind.

All these calmness evaporated after he left the park and was heading back to his place already on a street with Bertie trailing after him and sniffing everything he could put his nose into. Tim was so absorbed in his own world, in the dog that was doing all sorts of typical dog-things that were utterly adorable that he didn’t see it coming. He lifted up his gaze to look around and then he spotted them and it took his brain a few seconds to catch up with who exactly he was seeing. 

_Fuck_

His mind screamed. Cogs in his head were already working fast as to how to get out of this situation without being noticed.

They were walking slowly at the other side of the street, their hands entwined. Armie was in casual clothes, some faded blue jeans and a white shirt. Jacket or anything to cover his arms better completely forgotten. Still rather warm than cold. She was wearing a floral dress and some black leather jacket. Tim couldn’t quite hear them, but she was talking animatedly and Armie was looking at her with a genuine smile on his face. They both looked relaxed, she was leaning over his side and he was letting her do so by adjusting his posture. Timmy couldn't see her well enough from the distance, but even from where he stood, she looked beautiful. 

_They looked beautiful_

And his heart ached painfully in his chest. The memories were slipping to his mind and he knew he should stop them before the dam would open and they would come like a flood drowning everything in its way. That was what he wanted, he thought gloomily. That was a consequence of his actions and it was the first time he witnessed it. It was palpable. And he couldn’t help himself to hate it. To hate her. For being exactly where he wanted to be. 

He squeezed his eyes shut, wishing the memories away, trying to get over with it even if he could feel his walls shattering, the tiny little cracks expanding and snapping. He wasn’t sure how he got back to his apartment. But he was more than grateful to be left alone. Without anyone bothering him with questions. He curled on the bed and stroked Bertie’s fur until the ache faded away to just a dull of pain, the cracking only a distant almost forgotten noise.

_Theo once told me that keeping my emotions at bay wasn’t doing me any good. That they will pile and pile and pile until I won’t take it anymore and sooner or later I will simply explode. It was one of his ways to tell me I should be more open and honest with him. That he wanted to try this for real and was encouraging me to let go of the past and be with him. In a way he wanted me to._

_He was only partially true. I knew everything that happened was eating me alive. Oh so slowly. But I decided to bury it. To throw it in a box and seal it. To forget about it without dealing with all those issues in the first place. I willed to forget. And he was the one that couldn’t deal with it. About my past belonging only to me. About him not knowing what had happened and why I wasn’t the person he always wanted me to be. Theo thought he would cure me, he told himself that once I would deal with it, I would be with him in the way he always wished for. And it turned out that he couldn’t follow his own advice. Or perhaps he knew that I wouldn’t be with him aware of how he wanted me. Completely. Rawly. Unabashedly. Either way, it broke him. Bit by bit. The smile disappearing slowly from his voice, to be replaced with a scowl. The casual questions about my day turned to invasive interrogations about my family, friends, my entire life. The more I refused to speak, the more he forced me to talk. Until we both couldn’t lie anymore._

_Perhaps, for the first time, I finally understood what he felt. How he ached for me to be with him. That I was telling him lies. Time after time. Again and again. Feeding him some crappy bullshit to not be left alone. To not deal with what was in my head. And he stayed. Because he believed me. And what I did?! I destroyed him. Like everything good in my shitty life. Maybe I was convinced that after Armie I didn’t deserve anything good to happen to me. As weak as this excuse sounds, it wouldn’t let anyone feel better._

_Something happens and everything changes. The whole world shifts on its axis and you don’t even know what to do, how to act. Words are never just words. They leave a trace behind. Little paths that slightly turn and shift. Incidents that occur so randomly. And nothing stays the same._

_People do something, unaware of the consequences, and then you can’t even look at them to not think about it. You can’t stop those thoughts from crawling under your skin, from being ever-present in the back of your mind. You can’t just forget. I really choose to believe that's what happened to me and Theo. But there’s always the other alternative. That always greets me as an old friend. I can feel this wrecking coldness surging through my body, making its home in all the hollows and cavities. And I let it in, sighing softly. Because at least that was something I knew. Something I knew well._

  
  



	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't have much to say other than thank you for the comments - I know we all want to know what happened, but I will have to ask to keep going without knowing. At least for now.   
> Please remember all mistakes are mine.

When he woke up the next day there was a heaviness settled in his bones, curling around his veins and twirling in his gut. Whispering in a well-known melody that it wouldn't be a good day. He blinked a couple of times, sending the sleepy-fog away from his eyelids. The reality was slowly sinking into his brain, drop after drop and with it the loneliness he thought he learnt how to live with. But that day it cut deeper, its edges sharper, digging inside him with more force, leaving behind a dull ache he was painfully aware of. He didn’t want to get up, he didn’t want to leave the safety cocoon of his sheets wrapped around him. But he knew he didn’t have that privilege. Not anymore. With a grunt he crawled out of the bed, hoping that nothing would happen. 

“Timmy?” 

“Huh?” he asked grudgingly, mentally tired, ready to go back to his apartment and crawl under blankets, finding comfort in the solitude

“Boss was asking for you. She said she wanted to see you as soon as possible”

“Any idea what this is about?”

“No idea” Jill shrugged, giving him a reassuring smile before getting back to work. He nodded, more to himself than anyone around, put his things on the desk and headed to his boss's office, praying they weren’t firing him for not having the needed qualifications.

* * *

“Come in,” he heard after knocking lightly and stepping inside the spacious office, the light pouring from the enormous, ceiling to floor, windows.    
“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, of course. Come and sit. I’m just gonna end this email really quickly” she responded, briefly taking his eyes off the screen to him, never stopping on tapping. She was a workaholic, a piece of information he gathered pretty quickly. Jill sometimes complained about how many emails she got from her in the span of an hour. Or even a few minutes if the issue was urgent. In his boss’s opinion. And it was the only one that mattered in the end “Finished. Now then” she trailed off, piercing through him with her cold gaze, making him squirm uncomfortably under the scrutiny, the unpleasant feeling settling under his skin, spreading all over like a nasty rash. 

“Is something wrong?” 

“Oh, no. Not at all. We just need to wait for someone else. He will give you all the needed details, I’m sure but since he isn’t here yet, I can give you some heads up. Management decided on launching a new project, a little bit different from the things we are currently doing. And that’s where you come to the picture. We need a photographer and you have a lot of experience in it, from what we gathered. So after some debating, we decided to give you a shot” he kept on nodding through her words, like this toy in the back of the car whose head was always bobbing up and down “Since I’m not responsible for this I have an only vague idea, so any questions you should ask him directly. You will be working exclusively with him on that project”

“Who it is?”

“He should be here in a second and he will introduce himself properly. Speaking of the devil” she added after a few seconds of silence when the knocking resonated in the room, making Tim turn to watch the doors. 

And then  _ he _ walked in and Timmy was sure it would be better if he could stop existing in that instance, being dissolved into million pieces getting lost in the air and fading away. 

“Armie” Riley welcomed him cheerfully, standing up from her seat, coming closer, giving him a firm handshake, even though Tim was sure they knew each other well. 

“Hi,” Armie responded, having his gaze fixed on Timmy. The mask of indifference held in place. Right after the puzzles of his life were finally settling into place, the corners clicking, the sharp edges disappearing leaving a partial fullness behind, something had to go wrong, something had to happen and fuck things up. It was like forcing a puzzle to fit in the incorrect place, making the whole picture look bizarre. Strange. Unsettling.

He was so fucked.

So fucked.

* * *

He almost stormed right then and there, saying fuck it to all of this. Only Armie’s challenging gaze kept him in place, his knuckles twisting and bending to contain the frustration and anger bubbling inside him. He left the office hastily, leaving the doors wide open. He didn’t really know what to think. He didn’t really know what was going on but it didn’t stop him from being furious with Armie for letting this to happen. He was the son of the owner, for fuck sakes, he had something to say in all this shit.

“What the fuck Armie?!” he furiously huffed, his voice an octave louder and full of fury, making the nearby workers turning to glance at them curiously.

“Not here” Armie hissed in reply, looking around and glaring at people so they would go back to whatever they were doing. Armie finally moved past him towards the elevators and Tim had just to rush after him, the irritation flowing through his veins, making his skin hot and prickling, his limbs restive, slightly shaking. When they finally were in Armie’s office -- because of course, the fucker had an office, his mind viciously supplied --Tim glared at him, feeling something inside him burning, the dangerous flames licking his insides.

“End?!” he finally snapped, when Armie remained silent, just standing near the window, almost nonchalantly.

“What?”

“You can’t be serious” Tim mumbled under his breath before lifting his head up and looking Armie straight in the eyes “What the fuck is this?! And why the fuck I’m supposed to work with you?! You said we won’t even have to see each other!”

“Oh trust me, I’m well aware that you don’t want to see me. In fact, I got it clear a few years ago at my mom’s funeral. And the feeling is mutual” the guilt crawled around Tim’s heart, hearing Armie’s voice almost calm, detached from any anger, but Timmy knew him too well and could hear the undertone of sadness colouring his voice, making Tim’s anger subside. But it didn’t change their situation. Filled with guilt or not, Timmy would have to work with him and frankly, he wasn’t sure he was ready. Close proximity to Armie wasn’t something he needed. It always led to delusions and mistakes from his part. And even more, guilt to swallow. He wasn’t ready to be charmed by Armie Hammer again. Or perhaps to realize he never stopped being charmed. By him. 

“Listen,” Armie said after a beat of silence, sighing heavily, his voice resigned “I don’t think we have much choice here. You need this job and I don’t see anyone reacting well to the new worker denying a request for an assignment without a good reason. And I don’t want to go to my father saying exactly why I would rather not work with you”

It stung a bit, didn’t it?! To hear that you were just another dirty secret. Not only Amie didn’t want to talk about him, but he was also ashamed of Timmy. Of what happened between them. Armie was ready to work closely with him to just avoid saying to his father the truth. It was not something Tim ever imagined to occur. For his friend - or more accurately former friend - to be so cold and detached, indifferent to Timmy’s feelings. Perhaps he brought this upon himself. Perhaps he was the only one to blame for this. Whatever it was, it didn’t stop him from feeling hurt and shattered. It didn’t stop his heart from aching with sadness, the healed cracks opening again. Maybe this was what he needed. To let the pain in. To let it break him. Wreck him. To succumb to these feelings to be able to simply forget. And let it all go. Because deep down in his heart Tim knew he always loved Armie. 

He shook his head, wishing the overwhelming feelings away and focusing on the moment. On the person, he needed to be at the moment. Just another worker in the company that had to work with one of the head departments. That was all. No feelings. No history. No animosity. Just work.

“So what do you suggest?” he managed to ask, albeit all the thoughts swirling around his head

“To behave professionally and work because that’s why we are here. I think we are mature enough to treat the whole issue with responsibility and act civil around each other. And if we are lucky, we won’t even have to work closely with one another”

Tim nodded, swallowing a bitter taste that made its home in his mouth. It was for the best he thought. To pretend that nothing was wrong between them, that even though their friendship faded away with passing years, they could still talk and act normal. No one had to know that their relationship burnt and all that was left were ashes, the acrid smell of fire swirling around and dried tears on the cheeks. 

And yet looking at the arctic blue of Armie’s eyes, he could only remember how they stared at him all those years ago. Filled with tears, betrayal, regret and anger. How they bore into him, straight to the core, filling him with the coldness that slowly seeped into every bone of his body. That was the last time he saw Armie. The look in his eyes still hurt like hell. But he would take it again, instead of that blankness and indifference that was filling them now. That horrible emptiness he never saw in Armie’s eyes. And never thought he would.

“I will email you details then” Armie assured him, giving him a quick nod and strolling away, going back to work. 

Tim’s body filled with coldness again. 

* * *

He closed the door behind himself and the silence resonated between the walls. He was alone. Bertie back with Pauline. And for the first time since he came back, he felt terribly, devastatingly alone. Deserted and abandoned. Not welcomed into the lives of the people he cared for. Perhaps it was simply too late. Perhaps some decisions couldn’t be undone. And he just had to accept the consequences of his own actions. Even if just the thought was breaking him a little bit more.

He moved further inside, stopping close to the bed and stripping from his clothes, pulling some sweatpants and an oversized hoodie, welcoming the comfort of warm and cosy clothes. He felt as his insides were breaking, little by little, the tiny cracks appearing and expanding, the soft noises of splitting resonating within him. He hadn’t had a day like this in months. When the chillness was clawing at his flesh, crawling inside him, making him crave the human touch. Another body next to his, warming him up. The pads of someone’s fingers gently brushing his sides, a pair of legs entwined with his, soft lips trailing along his body seeking but never finding. He was starving for a person that would hold him in a tight embrace, tell him they would never leave him, that they would always be there. A person that would kiss him and hug him and just be with him among the silence, shushing away the coldness inside him. A person that in his mind, unsurprisingly had big, warm hands, blue eyes and a gentle body curving around his.

But he was alone. He once made that mistake of seeking someone. Anyone to make it better. Thinking that any pair of hands would do. That any mouth would be enough. 

He wasn’t willing to make the same mistake again. He crawled under the covers and just held himself. 

**July, 3.5 years ago**

_ He craved it. The loud music, the almost naked bodies, the overflowing alcohol. The burn that came both from dancing, your muscles sore flaming under fingertips, and the one that came from vodka shots, he downed one after another so willingly. He yearned for heat and human touch. Just to fill that hollowness in him.  _

_ He felt the warmth of the human body behind him, strong and sturdy, he let himself lean backwards, grinding his ass against the man’s pelvis. The guy’s cock stiffening and fattening against the crease of his ass, heavy hands spread over his hip bones, pushing him further towards a firm figure. Tim groaned, loudly and wantonly, when the man’s hand slipped down, curling over his cock, roughly tugging through the fabric.  _

_ ‘ _ You want this’

_ He was telling himself, his head lolling back, the pale expanse of his throat on full display. The nameless man latching his lips there, sucking the smooth texture, his teeth scraping the skin, stubble rubbing over the sensitive flesh. Leaving marks.  _

_ Coercing his eyes to open he was met with the piercing gaze of the blue-eyes he knew so well. The eyes that were engraved in his mind. Forever. _

_ Armie was standing just a few feet away from him. His body stiff and rigid.  _

_ Angry _

_ Tim turned, plunging his mouth against the man’s lips, shoving his tongue inside, his hand sneaking and gripping the man’s cock harshly.  _

_ “Wanna go somewhere more private?” he whispered seductively, biting the guy's earlobe. The next rough and hard kiss took him by surprise, but he didn’t complain. That was exactly what he needed.  _

_ He could feel Armie’s eyes burning his skin when he made his way to the loos. The nameless man’s hands roaming over his body in a possessive manner.  _

_ When he came, spurting the white stripes onto the man's face, his cock flaccid and his face flushed, he didn’t feel the rush of relief. Only the clawing of the void, shredding his flesh into pieces. _


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!  
> First of all, thank you for all the comments - my heart just burst with warmth reading them and knowing that there are some enjoying this story. I know I know you still don't know anything, but please be patient a bit more. And see how the story goes!  
> Second of all, not the best chapter because it's a little bit sad - but today is KendylGirl's birthday and I wanted to at least give her some small shoutout because she very much deserves it! For being not only such an amazing writer but such an amazing person, not minding my whining and complaining! I'm sure you know her well - but if you have some time give her a little bit more of fandom love today - [here's](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KendylGirl/pseuds/KendylGirl) her AO3 account. Happy birthday once again!

The Saturday dinner felt awkward and stiff, almost like the first one after his return, when the air was suffocating, the right words wouldn’t form in their throats, and the smiles were too tight to be genuine. Since his discussion with Armie, his head wasn’t in the right place. The memories of the past assaulting without him being able to break the pattern, to stop them from sinking deeper and deeper with every passing second.

“You look ill, sweetheart” Tim lifted his head, almost startled, too lost in his own thoughts. Tearing his gaze stuck on his plate, he looked at his mom trying to give her a reassuring smile, but his lips felt too numb and too strained to foul anyone least of all his mom. 

“I’m just tired. Haven’t slept well, that’s all” he assured her, sticking a potato on the fork and biting into it, feeling chewing paper.

“It’s all the fault of this damn mattress” she huffed a tad angry “You should get yourself a proper bed and not sleep on the floor”

He shot her a quick smile, not even wanting to argue with her that his tiredness had nothing to do with the mattress and all with what was going on in his head. Explaining everything would be even more problematic. But he felt warm spreading inside him, simply for her fussing over him as if he was a small kid. Perhaps she needed that as well because he refused to let her fret over him in all those years. Telling her he was fine, that she hadn’t had to worry. That he just hadn’t had time to come back for a few days, too much work but everything was okay. False pretences and lies were marking the relationship with his parents right now. 

“Everything is fine. I just got some new assignment at work and didn’t sleep well, that’s all”

“Ooh right. Armie mentioned you will be working together. How nice. I’m sure you will reconnect” he stopped mid-chew, a panic rising in his chest while he focused on keeping his face impassive. He swallowed past the lump formed in his throat, almost choking himself on the chunk of potato, giving his mom a curt nod, not trusting his voice to stay steady. He had no idea how she knew but he wasn’t daring himself to ask. Knowing even this small, almost innocent question would open the Pandora’s box he so wanted to keep closed. Even if the lid was already left ajar, the worms slowly crawling out.

“I’ll pack you some food, so you will just rest tomorrow” Nicole added and he smiled at her genuinely even if his lips were still a little bit tight. He already had a fridge full of leftovers his mom thought he should have just in case. And truth to be told he did swallow those brownies she dropped him off the other day, in one quick session. “You need to eat more” 

He wouldn’t even try to argue with her on that one.

* * *

He was fumbling with the keys to open up the door, feeling beaten up and drowsy, cursing the bags dangling from his hands, making it all more difficult. He was again lost in his thoughts, a common occurrence these days as his mind couldn’t stop from pondering on the same issues again and again and again. As if he could come up with something new. It was because of his mom this time. And her casual, almost nonchalant, backhanded comment about Armie that made his insides twist into knots, the heaviness settling around them like small cobwebs in the corners of the windowsill. The high-pitched, utterly sad whine had taken him by surprise, but it still took him a couple of seconds before his mind caught up with it. He looked at the shadows dancing around, street lamps softly illuminating the road with orange light, the leaves gently moving with the wind. He put the bags on the ground, getting his phone out of the pocket of his jacket, starting to look around and following the sound. He crouched under the bench, pointing his phone on the bushes, trying to convince himself he wasn’t going mad and that it was completely normal to follow sounds in the middle of the night without anyone around. Completely _fucking_ normal. Then he heard it again, this time even louder and he braced himself, praying to whatever deity that existed, before sticking his hand inside the shrubs. His hand grasped something furry and he slowly took it out, ending with a small ball of fur on his palm. The kitten whined again, trembling on his hand, his claws biting into the soft flesh. 

“Okay, okay. I’ll give you something” Tim said to it and stood up moving to the door of his building, opening the door and wrapping his hand around the bags he left there. The kitten was now a little bit squished between his elbow and his chest curled in a ball, still frightened. 

As soon as he was in his apartment he took out milk and poured it into a small bowl, setting it on the counter and placing the kitten next to it. With a bit of hesitancy at first, the cat finally gave in to his need and forgetting his doubts cleaned the bowl from milk in record time.

“Hungry huh”

The kitten turned towards him, placing his paws on Tim’s shirt as if trying to climb him. He chuckled and helped the animal, wrapping his hand protectively over the small ball of fur the kitten had just become. 

“Okay okay, you can stay. For a while” he added after a pause, scratching behind the ear to kitten’s contentment purring. 

But he didn’t quite believe himself on that when he crawled under the sheets and let the kitten curl around him, feeling the fur and warmth radiating from it against his fingertips. 

* * *

Sunday came with the kitten making itself at home in his apartment, claiming the left corner of the sofa and left-bottom side of the bed, sometimes snuggling closer to his face and always running away when Tim scratched behind the ear just a tad too long. To say that he wasn’t a cat-person would be a very obvious understatement. Somehow the exuberant energy of dogs was always closer to his heart than the lethargic vibes of cats. Perhaps because of the changes in his life, the changes in him, the isolated aura the cats displayed suited him better these days. There was also the fact that having an animal - even if a cat - was better than being alone between four walls. The perfect silent company that judged him only for the lack of food in the bowl or too long scratching session, instead of his poor life choices and how messed up his existence was.

Almost the first thing on Sunday morning was a quick trip to the vet. Just to check if everything was fine with the cat. He found out it was actually a female, in perfect health and probably abandoned a couple of days after the birth. Tim’s heart clenched at those words, not being able to wrap his head around the fact that there were people doing such things. Through the whole time of inspection, she was trembling slightly and watching Tim with sad eyes. After they got back to his apartment, she hadn't left him alone, always trailing after him and curling into the fluffy ball next to him, shifting whenever he moved a bit. 

So he spent the rest of his Sunday in front of his laptop, watching movies or youtube videos, the kitten curled in a small ball on his chest, nestling softly in the crook of his neck. He was scratching her from time to time, delighted in her purring, even though it was uncomfortable to keep his arm bent at this angle. She was still so little, fitting in his palm. And when she was trying to lay down next to him, she had to first move her paws in a very weird manner as if to prepare the surface for her little body and that was the most adorable thing he ever saw. So of course, he couldn’t stop taking pictures and videos on her, spamming Pauline’s box with them. He had no chills and calms about that. She was also a very needed distraction, something to just occupy his mind without further worries and anxieties. He knew that it was just a temporary solution. Sooner or later he would have to face the tangled past.

_It can wait_

He thought. 

_At least one more day._

**3 years ago**

_There was this feeling, gnawing at him, settling inside. The one he wanted to brush off, to forget, to stop from existing but it came back and back again, clawing its fingers inside him, deeper and deeper. He always knew it was there. Buried inside him._

_He was standing further down the aisle, his parents and Pauline at his sides. He could see Armie perfectly from here. Head bowed under the weight of pain, eyes red-rimmed, trails of tears dried on his cheeks. He was wearing a black suit, the same as his dad and brother, yet he seemed so alienated from them. And Tim just wanted to go to him, put his arms around his shoulders and hug him tightly. To just say he wasn’t alone in this. But he stayed firmly in place, hands clenched into fists at his sides, the lump in his throat becoming more and more painful. The back of his neck was sheathed with a firm layer of sweat and the collar of his white shirt was itching at his nape, the urge to scratch becoming unbearable._

_His consciousness caught up with the present when people were starting to move around him. He looked at the centre aisle, watching the coffin being taken out of the church. Armie trailing behind them, head bowed, gaze firmly stuck in the floor, his shoulders sagged. Tim bit down hard on his bottom lip, stopping himself from doing something stupid. He let himself go after his parents, holding Pauline’s elbow, trying to work through all the emotions, but the path to the cemetery was too short and his feelings too complicated. He felt that pain, that ache, that deep sadness. But not for the person that lied dead inside the coffin. Not for whom they all gathered here._

_He wasn’t listening, all the sounds blending into the indifferent buzz that was simply reaching his ears. He was so lost._

_So fucking lost._

_He could feel the tears prickling his eyelids. His heart beating faster in his chest, painfully squeezing in tight space._

_He was rushed after his parents, trying to be last in line. Postponing the inevitable. And then Armie looked at him, through his wet eyelashes, his eyes red and sad, his face contorted with pain. And Tim just couldn’t. He stepped forward, wrapping his hands around Armie’s torso, letting Armie lean against him, hearing him sob in the material of his jacket, when he buried his face in Armie’s jugular, breathing his scent deep into his nostrils for the first time in months. Finally feeling at home._

_He knew that hope was the cruellest of emotions. Hope would make him whole just to tear him up again. But he just couldn't stop himself from reaching out, from enveloping Armie in his embrace, putting his arms around him tightly as if to say ‘I will never let you go’._

_Hope was a foolish thing. It would start with a small flicker just to expand to a big flame that eventually would just burn you. He just wished he would be able to stop it in time._

_But he was already burning. He just didn’t know._

**Present**

Coming to work on Monday was harder than ever. Just a few minutes in Armie’s presence had shaken him up, opening the wounds that had never really healed, bringing the ghosts of the past he never dealt with. And he wasn’t even ready to do it now. Facing his own previous decisions meant facing the consequences and his own guilt. Perhaps that was what scared him the most. That knowledge on the back of his head that it was all his fault, that he was the only one to blame. That _he_ was responsible for his own misery.

He was never good with taking responsibility for his own actions. But he couldn’t really run away any longer. Not when the reality was pounding on his door like a raging animal and sooner or later whether he wanted it or not the truth would just pour in like a tidal wave and he wouldn’t be able to do anything about it, save the drowning. 

He really didn’t like these kinds of days. When he was stuck in his own head, the thoughts swirling and swirling like water flowing down the drain in a whirlwind. It was tiring, draining. He couldn’t escape it. Whatever it was, it was gnawing at him, wanting his attention. Spinning effortlessly in his head. Like this one argument, you had with your parents when you were a teenager and you were stuck in your room for hours it seemed, repeating the fight in your head time and time again, always getting better comebacks you couldn’t yell at your parents anymore. He couldn’t strictly pinpoint what was bothering him. But it was there. In his head on an endless spin. These thoughts were disturbing. Not only because they were forever there, present and persistent, but because it seemed that he would have to deal with them. In one way or the other. And he was just a fucked up asshole. He sighed internally, feeling frustrated with himself, knowing that most probably the day wouldn’t bring anything good. Yet still, despite this gut-deep feeling, he wasn’t prepared. And he stopped, dead in his tracks, taking the scene in front of him. His brain having a hard time processing it all. 

Will was standing a few feet in front of him, animatedly talking with no one else but Armie. Armie’s head bent towards him, his hand on Will’s shoulder, a delightful smirk colouring his face. 

_He knows_

The first thought that crossed Tim’s mind. Will knowing about what happened. About everything. Armie had told him. He couldn’t help the coldness seeping through his skin, digging deeper. Displeasing shiver running down his spine, curling his hands into fists to stop them from trembling. 

He tried to compartmentalize his life. To cut it into pieces, fitting them into well-defined boxes like ‘friends’, ‘family’, ‘private stuff’. Keeping them partially separated to not let them crash and collide, destroying the illusion of being in control. Armie was always an exception. Always. He sneaked around to know Tim’s family, warming his way to his parents until he was a constant fixture in their lives, an ever-present figure that stayed after everything went to hell. How he snatched the attention of his friends and before Tim knew they adored him. Or how he won Pauline over, with his smugness and heated political arguments. And before Tim could stop it, Armie was already there, fully submerged in his life in a way that Tim couldn’t even imagine not having him there. 

Until he really wasn’t and all Tim could do was to find himself again.

To no vain perhaps. 

When they looked at him, smiles freezing on their faces, he was ready to run. Again.

* * *

The memory. A strange concept. How you could remember random facts, like on which channel your favourite programs were, but failing at wishing your best friend happy birthday on the correct day. And not like a day later. Or a week. 

So strangely Tim always remembered his first fuck. It was a girl from a club, they went to hers and it was a purely animalistic act, very awkward and clumsy as well. On his part mostly. She at least knew how to put a condom on a cock. Unlike him, even though he had one. He remembered the first guy he pulled, getting a sloppy handjob behind the dumpster. How excited, but also terrified he was. Afraid of what it all meant. Afraid of being humiliated and embarrassed by inexperience. With starken clarity, he remembered his first kiss. Sloppy and awkward. Full of spit. His mouth opened too widely. Tongue doing a weird, poking dance. He remembered she was nice. Cute even. They never kissed again. They hadn’t talked much either. 

Should it be surprising that he only vaguely remembered _that_ one time?! Just the flashbacks. How he dipped his tongue in Armie’s backside dimples. How Armie gripped him, his mouth fierce and demanding. How he pushed in, seeing the desire and lounging fluttering in Armie’s eyes. He remembered thinking that it couldn’t be true. Only his wishful thinking. He remembered the feelings. How Armie’s hands felt caressing his sides. How exquisite it was to run his fingertips all over Armie’s body, feeling his nipples hardening underneath them. How Armie bucked when he touched his cock, wrapping his fingers loosely around the shaft. He remembered the harsh daylight pouring in through the window when he woke up the morning after. How the guilt and shame were slowly crawling over him, sinking deeper. It shouldn’t have happened. He stayed with that thought for weeks. 

They say ‘ _you never step into the same river twice_ ’. 

But it didn’t mean you couldn’t done the samek mistake twice.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there, I know, I know I move in snail's pace. I guess this is how I can do this stuff. I hope that after the next chapter, things will go a little bit faster. Sidenote - I'm trying to post within 2 weeks period, but since I haven't written the next chapter because I couldn't get my brain on it, it might be later. But I will do what I can!   
> Thank you for the comments - they give me life and strength to keep going!

Of course one day everything had to go to hell. And Tim should have known it would happen. Should have known the strained peace wouldn’t last forever. Perhaps he sunk into hopefulness things would keep on being better. As it was for previous weeks. He felt comfortable, and most of all safe for some time now that having it shift on its axis was almost like a ground disappearing from beneath his feet. 

Not that he hadn’t thought about Armie. And Will. And all the mess that brought him to this moment of his life. Manoeuvring between the lies, half-truths, unspoken words, avoidance and ignoring. It was all messy and loaded with heavy emotions, and so much guilt he didn’t know he could even handle. But at least he was coping. Ignoring or putting some for other - _better_ \- time. When he would be ready to untangle it all and just deal with it. Which he already knew that would never happen. He could never be possibly ready for it. He was trying to move on with what his life had become, perhaps deluding himself that he had rights to his own peace of mind. That he had rights to do it all at his pace. Maybe things weren’t perfect but at least he was trying. 

And then it all came to an abrupt halt.

Because nothing could be easy for him. 

It was raining through the whole morning and he came to work a bit drenched, his curls soaked up because he forgot (or just didn’t bother) with an umbrella. It was all grey outside, rain pouring repeatedly, the never-ending buzz reaching everyone’s ears, making Tim sleepy, yawning, rubbing his eyes to wake up, his eyelids dropping again and again, despite all the coffee he had already drunk. He planned to just go home, maybe earlier than usual, crawl under the blankets and just sleep. Showers weather always was a bit melancholic to him. And it was all gloomy like doomsday was coming. 

His eyes shut closed for the nth time this day when someone cleared their throat startling him. He looked up, meeting Armie’s oceanic blue eyes and his blank fack, the mask of indifference held tightly in place. Perhaps it was for the best, Tim suddenly thought. That not only Armie wasn’t interested in him, in any shape or form, unbothered and detached, but because he was also unattainable. Out of Tim’s reach. He was settled with his life. His partner and their daughter. There was no need for him to know how Tim felt. Maybe it was time for him to put a stop to what was happening to his heart. Bury all those feelings deep, as deep as he could until they would start to decay, to rot, forgotten in the depth of his being. Until the only thing left would be the distinctive scent, memory already lost in the pitch blackness. 

“Yeah?” he asked, turning to the right, straightening his spine, his backbones popping, feeling his neck-bones cracking,

“We need to talk about the project, have you got some time now?”

“Sure … I just need to emm finish this” he awkwardly pointed out at the black screen of his computer, swearing silently at his own bad luck.

“I’ll wait in my office then” shaking his head affirmatively, Armie strutted away, leaving Tim with somehow even more mess twirling around his head.

* * *

He was standing in front of the door, his entire self not ready to get inside. Taking a deep breath, he dragged the air into his lungs for as long as he could, letting it out with an audible woosh. Perhaps he was nervous because he still hadn’t had any useful pieces of information. Other than _‘we still don’t have much details_ ’ sent to him via email with some vague notes. Since then he hadn’t heard from Armie and kept on doing his work as he had before. But the idea he would have to work closely with Armie was nagging him, always persistent, always there, in the back of his mind, coming forward unexpectedly and randomly throughout the day when he just let himself wonder. And thinking of Armie always came easy to him.

Though honestly. Who he tried to fool?! Himself?! It wasn’t because of work that his heart was rabbiting in his chest, pushing harder and harder against his ribcage. It wasn’t because of work that his hands were trembling, all sweaty, so he had to run them several times over the soft material of his pants. Work he could handle, but Armie. 

Armie was definitely the problem. 

He knocked and waited for the response, pushing the door after he heard a strong and firm ‘ _come in_ ’, walking inside the spacious office he had a chance to see once, but not scrutinize closely. 

Armie looked at him from his laptop, papers scattered over his desk in a haphazard manner. His hair swept back, a pair of reading glasses perched on his nose, his eyes cloudy and a little bit startled by Tim’s presence. 

“You said we had to talk,” he said, uncertainly, ready to simply bail from there and deal with some other things, maybe even forget about the whole ‘ _we-need-to-talk_ ’.

“Yes of course. Sit” he gathered everything on one messy pile, making Tim smile involuntarily. He remembered the time they were both studying during college years at Armie’s apartment, and how he always had everything out, somewhere on the floor to just snatch it and read it in a very random manner. How his books were always somewhere, flipped open to the chapters he wasn’t even interested in. But despite all the untidiness of his studying, his notes were simply perfect. Tim still had this one, little note Armie gave him, he couldn’t quite recall what was written there, but he kept it there, in a box full of memories, getting it out from time to time to just look at the most beautiful calligraphy. It was rumpled now, more yellow and soft to the touch, the lines where it was folded evident, breaking the paper around the edges. Despite the state, still a treasure.

Tim was just half-listening, all too aware of being this close with Armie. With Armie who wasn’t ignoring him, wasn’t avoiding looking straight at him, directing words _at_ him and not just into the air they were unfortunately sharing. It was almost intoxicating. To hear him being so passionate about this project, about what they had to do and why it was so important. His enthusiasm was bleeding into every word he spoke, gleaming in his eyes as the possible outcomes took shapes. It was more than obvious for Tim that it was Armie’s baby project and that it was a proving test. For his dad. The company. But also a test for himself. And Tim had an unsurprising urge to help him as much as he could. To see him win. To see him smile in victory. The pink blush creeping onto his cheeks after the words of praise directed at him. And who could even blame him for inserting himself there, creating his own fantasy, when after all the fanfare, all the congratulations, all the talks and all the praise, Armie would celebrate with him. Only him.

It was a sweet fantasy. But also just that. A fantasy.

“And the last thing,” Armie said, shifting uncomfortably, his voice a bit strained, making Tim’s brain focus, changing his posture, straightening his legs “We will have to go to each and every one of these locations to assess them all, and of course capture them to have this all in our summary for possible future clients.”

“Wait.” Tim scrambled to get the meaning behind Armie’s words, his heart already hammering in his chest “You mean that the two of us would have to go there, look at those houses and take pictures of them”

“Basically yes. That is why it’s a team of two.” Armie’s tone was flat but sure and confident “I’m responsible for judging if that is what we are looking for, the location, price and so on. But since I’m not a photographer, I need someone else to be able to capture the beauty of all those places. This new project is … it’s risky and hazardous, we need to be sure or else it will be just losing a shit ton of money. Is that a problem for you? Working with me like this?” there was something edging Armie’s calm voice, some sort of uneasiness Tim couldn’t quite place, perhaps a fear.  
“No, of course not”

But it was. It fucking was.

There was no point in denying the most obvious truth. He would be fine if it would only be working with Armie. But not with having work-related trips with him, not spending almost every daylight hours (or maybe even night ones) in his presence, not seeing him grumpy in the mornings, drinking his first cup of coffee. It was simply just too much. Too much to bear. Too much to handle. It resembled too highly their study sessions in college. Or not even those, but just spending time with Armie whenever he wanted, like those random tv series nights when they binge-watched the most stupid shows they could find on Netflix.

And yet, there wasn’t anything he could do. Apart from refusing to do it and getting fired. But he needed this job, needed the money that came with it. He had to make it work somehow. Or maybe … maybe he didn’t want to get out of it. Because it meant to be around Armie.

Lying in bed and scratching Romy’s head, while she was purring contentedly, he really was wondering if a way to untangle it all even existed. If there was a manner to make it all good again. He realized a long time ago that he would never be that Timmy again. The one loved and cherished by everyone, the one pinning over his best friend, the one always ready to help his friends whether it was actually doing something or simply listening. But he was there. He was _that_ guy and now ...

He sighed frustrated with himself, by getting down this spiralling again. It was pointless, he was just getting more irritated by thinking of it again without finding solutions. Some miraculous solve-it-all in a form of wipes. Or packed in a bottle to spray it all over himself. Romy hissed, clawing at his skin when he scratched her too roughly, troubled by his thoughts.

“Ouch fuck! You don’t have to be this mean to me” he huffed, watching her curl in a ball, a few feet away from him.

His fucking luck honestly, his own pet didn’t like when he bitched too much. 

* * *

Another boring Wednesday. Those were the worst. The middle of the week, everyone tired and ready to jump straight to the weekend, and yet with two more days to work. But after it passed, it seemed like the week was already ending. He yawned sleepily around the first mug of coffee, blinking at the screen of his computer, trying to log into the system.

He had a few good days this past week. A lovely diner at his parents house when it almost felt like he never really left, they were joking and teasing each other, and it never seemed strained or filled with tension like when you have to watch your words to not offend anyone. Pauline came to him twice, wanting to see Romy in person and they hung out for a bit. She talked about her life. He listened. And it felt good. It felt like she was inviting him to her life again. Of course, he could see the questions flickering in her eyes, almost spilling out from her lips, but she always backed off. As if she didn’t want to cross this line.

He did get it. He really did. But sometimes he wished for her to just say it so he could tell her the truth. So he could get it all out. And maybe even ask her what he should do. 

There was also this one - _unforgettable_ \- pub night with his friends. At which Will showed up and stayed, all tense, the conversations strained and awkward, the rising number of beers consumed not helping even slightly, only left scattered on the small table they were occupying waiting to be taken away. It was more than clear Will didn’t want him there. That he didn’t like the rest of their group welcomed Tim so easily as if forgetting what he did. Zoe glared at Will a few times, and the one - quite memorable - when she kicked his shin under the table, causing a beer to spill over the surface, not looking apologetic for even a second. Will, apart from giving him a cold glare when he saw him, didn’t acknowledge his presence for all that night, even excusing himself a few hours earlier just to get out of there. 

Which yeah granted Tim could understand this. But it still wasn’t the best feeling. Because understanding and being okay with the matter were two different things. The worst part was knowing he couldn’t say or do anything to make it better. To even explain. In the end, it would all still be some shitty excuses. Will knew him too well to accept just that. Not to mention he probably knew Armie’s side of the story. 

His mail finally kicked in, after he had to wait a solid couple of minutes. At least he didn’t have to call the IT guys to help him like the last time, two weeks ago. Especially considering their eerie glances like he was stupid to not get this done all by himself. Not like it was their job to help him in the first place. Go figure some people.

The situation flew from his mind as soon as he saw an email from Armie waiting for him there. His eyes blinked upon, his spine straightening when he double-clicked on it to get it open. He scanned it quickly, trying to gather as much information when his heart was starting to pound in his chest. He started again after he reached the end and didn’t understand any of it. 

After the third reading, the realization dawned on him. 

They were going this weekend and Tim was supposed to be ready on Friday morning. Just one day to get it all together.

He was so utterly fucked. 


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well - here's another chapter and while I know we all just want to know, my brain still isn't ready to move there. So be patient I guess.  
> And thank you for the comments - they are my live!  
> PS: Sorry for all mistakes.

His duffel bag was laying on the ground at his feet, while he was waiting for Armie to come to the company’s parking lot. Other than having vague information where he had to be, when and what he should bring, Armie wasn’t clear about _how_ exactly they would move. Perhaps it was not that important as Tim thought. Maybe it was his nerves speaking. Because he was very well aware that it would be challenging. This first trip. For both of them. And while he knew they both could behave professionally, Tim was more worried about all that time spent not working. And how he could fill the awkward silence with appropriate words. He was convinced they would spend their time in silence, the most uncomfortable and eerie, which Tim really fucking hated. It was still better than making small talk about how Armie’s life changed, about his girlfriend, about their daughter and everything in between. Most probably he didn’t want Tim to know it all, understandably so. 

He sighed, checking his watch seeing as he had another 10 minutes to their arranged meeting time. Of course, he was now nervous that he got here too early even if it was better to wait than arrive late. And since he already dropped Romy to Pauline, he hadn’t had any good reason to go back to his place. He checked his phone, no new emails or texts, realizing he didn’t have Armie’s phone number, and if he would be late there was no way for Tim to contact him. Honestly, why hadn't he thought about it sooner ?!

Cursing himself, he sat on the curb. It wasn’t even worth it, getting frustrated and worked up over things he had no control over. Especially now. He breathed deep, holding the air in his lungs for a couple of seconds, letting it out in an audible woosh. He had two options. Either Armie would appear on time, or he wouldn’t. The former would just mean going according to the plan. If the latter he did everything as he was told. 

His wonders were cut short when the burgundy SUV appeared on the parking lot, stopping swiftly next to him. Proving him exactly how not ready he was. To be around Armie. Especially when he got out of the car, sunglasses perched on his nose, looking like a goddamn _movie star_ , making Tim’s insides clench painfully, his cock throbbing in his pants. 

_Fuck_

His mind unhelpfully contributed. One thing was to work closely with Armie, struggling with all the tension between them, but an entirely different thing was to be continuously exposed to his charm. It was painfully unfair, especially considering Tim was wearing his grey sweatpants because he always opted for comfort when he was travelling, while his trip partner had a very snugly pair of jeans. 

“You ready?” Armie asked when Tim scrambled to stand, gathering his backpack and duffel bag “You can throw your stuff in the trunk” he added, going around the car and opening it, waiting for Tim to put his bags before closing it with a soft click

“Are we going in your car?”

“Yeah. Get inside, I will explain everything since we have some hours to kill on the road”

And that was that. So without further questions, Tim crawled to the passenger seat, wondering if this trip would give him some answers or maybe even some solutions, or just another set of burning questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. 

Armie’s explanations were strict, sufficient and to the point. Detailed enough for Tim to not even ask too many questions. But that also meant, quite unfortunately in Tim’s opinion, that they quickly run out of safe topic matters, the awkward silence looming around them like an imminent storm. 

He breathed once. Twice. Thinking of where to start, how to break the awkwardness. If there even was a way to do it. Breathing once more, he turned around facing the window, closed his eyes and wished for sleep to overtake him, deciding he could come up with ideas after a nap.

* * *

Blinking his eyes open he tried to decide what woke him up. Not that the position he had was comfortable, in fact, his neck was screaming in pain as well as his left shoulder, but he was quite happy swirling around his unconscious mind, oblivious to the world around him. The sound finally penetrated his brain, he straightened looking at Armie’s sides, realizing they stopped at a gas station and his travel-partner was nowhere in sight. He laid his head again on the seat, closing his eyes and breathing, slowly gathering his thoughts and surroundings, remembering exactly why he was there. 

His eyes fluttered open when the driver’s door clicked and Armie crawled inside, balancing to not spill the hot drinks clutched tightly in both of his hands. He passed Tim one cup without a word, getting more comfortable in his own seat and shutting the door.

“Thanks” Tim mumbled, more to himself than to Armie, his nostrils invaded by the rich smell of coffee before he took a tentative sip just to not scold his tongue. It was certainly not the best coffee he had a pleasure to taste, but it was hot and black, making his insides tingle and his throat constrict. Getting another sip of the liquid was at least a passable excuse to not say a thing. But yet again Tim was reminded how deeply things changed, how it all shifted to another direction, while he stood there and watched not doing a single thing to stop it. Or maybe even encouraging it with his silence. The memories from the past road trips with Armie flashed through his mind. The windows wide open, the heavy heat poring inside, their voices loud, screaming rather than singing. The dull ache in his limbs on the random stops, his skin sheathed in sweat, his clothes clinging to it. A painful reminder nothing would be the same again.

“How much we still got?” he asked, bringing himself back to the present, focusing on what was happening now, trying — and perhaps failing miserably — to not compare it to anything that happened before. 

“A couple of hours. Two, three maybe. Depends on traffic” Armie replied tersely, swiftly getting the car out of the parking lot to the road again. Tim bit his lip. Questions pounding in his head, even those he would never dare to ask. He gazed at him, contemplating while studying Armie’s profile, the dark stubble covering his cheeks, the firm hold of his jawline, the slightly crooked shape of his nose, the rosy pout of his lips, moisturized with the recess of coffee he sipped just before. He looked away quickly, not wanting to get caught staring. Yet still, he couldn’t throw the most persistent thought. Armie was happy. He had a beautiful partner. They were raising a daughter together. He was doing amazingly in his family business. Why then Tim just couldn’t apologise to him. Couldn’t talk with him honestly and explain. Couldn’t move on from the impasse he created. Some small part of him knew exactly why. Facing the truth meant losing the possibility to be with Armie forever. And that was the only remaining hope he had. Losing it, was close to losing himself. 

* * *

It wasn’t the luxurious hotel Tim assumed they would stay. It was a simple one, covering basic necessities. More shocking though was the one room with two single beds they were supposed to occupy. The surprise must have had shown on Tim’s face because Armie turned around and asked him

“Is that a problem?!” Tim shook his head instantly, adding a weak ‘ _No_ ’ to emphasize and moved to lay his bags on the other bed, trying to get himself under control. It didn’t cross his mind they would share a room. He assumed, spectacularly wrong, Armie would prefer to distance himself from him as much as he could, cutting the time they spent together to the minimum. He wasn’t sure what prompted this decision. The money, the hotel and lack of rooms, or perhaps … something else entirely. All in all, he wasn’t ready to ponder on that since he had a more persistent issue on his hands. How he would survive sleeping in the same room as Armie and not combust from frustration?!

“You wanna hit the shower first?” Armie asked, startling him and hurling him back to the present, away from the endless possibilities his mind was conjuring. 

“Huh?!” Tim spoke indistinctly, the meaning of Armie’s words lost on him of being too deep in his own head.

“The shower” Armie repeated flatly, eyes opening wider to stare at Tim expectantly 

“Nhh … no, you can go first” he managed to stutter at the scrutiny. Armie didn’t wait for more, getting his stuff and heading to the bathroom, blessedly leaving Tim alone. He groaned, smashing himself over the bed in a dramatic manner. 

Tim had time to refresh himself, ate very tense and awkward lunch with Armie at the hotel’s canteen (or restaurant, he wasn’t quite sure how to name it), before they were packed again in a car, this time heading to the first location, while Armie dived into a detailed explanation of their schedule as if he didn’t want to say it all before to not get it all messed up and complicated.

“I think all the equipment you will need is in the trunk, but I’m not exactly sure so you will have to figure it out on your own. We have three locations to see on this trip. Today we cover just one, tomorrow the other two. I’ll need you to take the best photos out of there. As I said, I don’t know if we will use any of it later, but I want all the bases covered, okay?”

“Kay”

And he would be terribly lying if that hadn’t made him sick to his stomach. 

The problem was not only working in the same space Armie was occupying and worrying he might watch Tim and his progress, but the fact Tim never did do well with interiors. The photography intrigued him because of how you can catch the moment in the frame, freeze it to inspect later all the details, move your gaze inch by inch, noticing all the small aspects making the photograph compelling. But what captivated him, to the point he wanted to pursue it as his career, were portraits. How you could capture the human emotions that flicked for just a second. How you could capture time, knowing none of them would be at the same point ever again. How you could marvel at the fracture of the skin, at the flexing of the muscles, at the blemishes making them unique. It was all there for your eyes to devour, and that was why Tim was so compelled by it. He loved it, with every fibre of his being, with every damn cell of his body. Later on, he detested it because … a lot of reasons he could say, but still. The problem was he wasn’t good with interiors and dead sceneries. It would definitely be a challenge. 

Armie didn’t spare him much time to introduce him to the owner, or whoever it was that came to greet them there, silently indicating Tim should get to work. Breathing deeply, Tim shuffled back to the car, getting the stuff out of the trunk, trying to decide what could be useful for this particular spot, before carrying it all back inside. He put his headphones on, tuning out the noises and set up to work. 

He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, lost in the world of the camera lens, when he felt a hand on his shoulder, startling him with its suddenness and making him jump, losing the perfect frame.

“Just wanted to ask how much time you need?” Armie asked softly, and Tim’s blurry gaze caught a hint of a smile there. Or it could be just his hopeful imagination, seeing things that weren’t there.

“Ummmm” he mumbled incoherently, his mind still on a spiral of lightning, frames, angles. 

“Do you need more time?” Armie asked again, still soft and gentle, nothing like the indifferent tone he used previously in Tim’s presence. 

“You finished?” Tim asked him instead of answering and seeing Armie not positively, he turned away from him, finally replying “Go on then, I’ll just pack everything here” he could feel Armie’s presence beside him for a few more seconds, when he was trying to get that perfect frame again, before he shuffled away, the echo of his footsteps fading until it wasn’t even there. 

* * *

He placed his head gingerly over the soft material of the seat, shutting his eyes closed, feeling every cell in his body sore and tired. He could feel the car moving and he felt a bit sorry for Armie that he had to drive them back home after so exhausting two days of work. It turned out that Friday's location was just a lucky strike because the rest two were rather a nightmare. Adding to that the fact Tim was almost all the time in Armie’s presence was making it difficult for him to act professionally. Especially the evening spent in their room and the following night. Tim was so engrossed in getting through the material of the day, he hadn’t even noticed Armie appearing in sweatpants and a loose tee. He only looked up when Armie asked him if he wanted something to eat and he was sure he gaped at him like fish out of water, hoping Armie would blame it on the work. He muttered back that he would eat whatever, before drawing back his gaze to his laptop, dumbly blinking at the photo on the screen, not quite remembering what he was doing before Armie’s question. 

And there was the night. And in the morning. Frankly, Tim couldn’t tell which one was worse. Turning from side to side, futilely trying to fall asleep, knowing Armie was right there, snoring softly. Or waking up, feeling tired and not ready at all to be dragged out of bed, getting an eye-full of Armie sleep-rumpled hair, sticking out, his puffy eyes not fully open yet and that soft smile he gave him before walking to the bathroom. Everything was harder than Tim anticipated, bringing back all the memories, he so scrupulously buried. Even while working, he couldn’t quite throw them out of his head. He could blink, deciding what was the perfect frame, while Armie’s eyes drowsy from sleep would appear behind his eyelids. Or his naked body, covered only by a thin sheet, making his knees go weak, his heart pounding in his chest. By the time they were finished, he was more than ready to go back, lock himself in his apartment and not see Armie for another 10 years. 

They pulled out to eat some later dinner, which Tim was sure was rather due to his rambling stomach than Armie’s need to stop and eat. Most probably he wanted to get back home as soon as possible and eat with his girlfriend and daughter, and not with Tim in some McDonald’s they stumbled upon. Even the greasy, delicious food couldn't stop the acrid taste spreading through his taste buds, knowing he most probably was just an obstacle. The rest of the road they spent in silence, the radio softly playing in the background, Tim’s gaze stuck to the window and his cheek to the seat, counting the minutes till they would be back. 

“You want me to give you a ride to your apartment?” Armie asked, startling Tim a bit as he was very much lost in his own thoughts. He hadn’t thought about this before, stupidly assuming Armie would just leave him at the company’s parking lot.

“No” he finally answered, after weighing his options “I have to get back my cat, and -”

“Your cat?!” Armie interrupted him, his voice coloured with incredulity, his head twisting to the right to face Tim  
“Yeah, my cat and I’m sure you want to get back to your daughter, so you can leave me some-”

“Wait, wait, wait” Armie cut him off again, but his tone lost the playfulness and joyfulness it had before, becoming serious and sharp “What daughter?!” 

Tim was getting agitated. He twisted his body on the seat, turning towards Armie, his face a clear vision of what was happening inside his head. Because — was honestly Armie fucking kidding ?! He was there. He saw the little girl clutching tightly his big hand, hiding behind his intimidating frame, watching Tim cautiously. 

“Well … the little girl from the supermarket” he reasoned after a beat of silence, the car still on the move.

“What … who are you talking, ooh you mean Sophie” he spoke the name softly, the realization dawned on him in stages, each and every visible on his face “Oh god, but she … she is not my daughter. She’s Victor’s … I mean she is Victor’s daughter, I was just babysitting her because they went for a few days away for their anniversary”

_Holy fucking shit_


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forst of all, I would like to THANK all of you for being so amazing and giving me this vast amount of positive energy! The last chapter was the first one I think under which I got more than 10 comments! I'm so incredibly thankful for that! And it's all your work! All of you, those that commented from the first chapter and were always present, those that just found this story or those that lurk more than comment but still commented! THANK YOU!  
> Second of all, I'm so terribly sorry for the delay, I'm trying to post within 2 weeks but sometimes life is just too much and fic doesn't want to write itself still! I will try to be back on track and work harder!   
> Thirdly, I know we all die to know what exactly happened - but again I ask for a little bit of patience. This story still needs some points for me to get it through!  
> Thank you again and I hope you will like this one, even tho it's not much revealing.   
> To the next one.

As permitted, Tim took two days off of work, which he already knew wouldn’t be enough to get through the mess in his head. It was still better than appearing at work a bit shaken from Armie’s revelations and pretending nothing had happened. Well … frankly, nothing  _ had happened _ . At least not between them. The professionalism facade was still in place even if Tim hadn’t felt the same as he did before. For many reasons, but the most important was the lack of a daughter.

That small — or maybe not so small fact, changed everything he assumed about Armie’s life. He was no longer a settled man, with a long-term girlfriend and a kid in tow. The idea that Armie jumped from whatever they had those years ago, straight into another relationship, ending with a kid was no longer there. And Tim couldn’t fool himself anymore. Fed himself with some old excuses that it was all for Armie’s happiness, so Armie could finally have a life he always wanted, the wife, kids, dog and big house with a white fence. The life his mother always dreamt for him.

Suddenly Tim ached to know everything. To get through every small, little detail of Armie’s life during his absence. All those years he kept going, stubbornly sticking to his decision, convinced it was for Armie’s good. For his happiness. Because he thought it was the right thing to do. Because he was scared of so many things and deluding himself it was the right choice was just easier. He craved to know what happened during his three years absence, but a small, vulnerable part of him wasn’t sure if he could handle it. If he could know what massive fuck up he made. If he could survive knowing something was there, but he destroyed it. He got through all of this because of his stubborn belief. He wasn’t sure what would happen if that would turn out to be just that. Another lie. Yet, he still yearned to know. Even if that meant shattering to the million little pieces.

But Tim was still Tim after all. In his dictionary, it didn’t translate immediately to do what he had decided. After all, he was a master in procrastinating. Meaning he spent two days in his apartment, lying in bed, Romy safely tucked close to him, watching random videos on youtube. Getting to the kitchen from time to time to fetch himself something to drink or eat, which meant more snacks, he had hidden, than any real food and sugary drinks. He was rather proud of himself on Wednesday morning when he dragged his tired body out of bed and forced it to function again. 

* * *

There was another set of memories, hammering in his head. He wasn’t even fazed to find himself over and over again lost in thoughts. As it was already happening often since he came back. Like setting his foot in this small, forgotten town broke the dam, and memories were flooding back, with all the forcefulness, shining with a bright new light. It was normal for him doing something, simultaneously dozing off and thinking about those previous three years and where they got him. About the mess, his life had become. How he couldn’t find a way out of it. 

He remembered the first weeks there. In New York. Alone. Determined. He could still recall the smell and taste of those bars he was a frequent guest. Of the bathrooms, he visited so much. Never alone. The forced smile, permanently stuck to his face, when he was slowly breaking apart inside. Until the funeral, where he saw  _ him _ again. How he felt alive again, feeling tanned skin beneath his fingertips, hearing the soft breath tickling his hair, curling around his ear, the gentle press of their bodies and silently spoken need, told with soft, unsure touches, hesitant kisses, but also tight grips and hard thrusts when it all became just on the edge of too much. The way it shattered through him, leaving him vulnerable.  _ Seen.  _ The persistent need to get out. Hide. To not be left down gently. How New York felt when he came back. Big enough to fill all of the holes, breaks and cracks. Big enough to get lost in it, to not care and let the noises in his head to be drowned out in the loudness of the city. Meeting people.

Meeting Theo.

Things were great at the beginning. Perhaps because Tim convinced himself everything was fine, to the point he also believed it, that he got into the new relationship with all the hope and promises. This was how life went, right?!

Everything looked good on the surface. But when you dared to look closer you started to see the cracks. The hollows and ridges. It was still okay though. Because we were not perfect. There were always ups and downs. Only when you dared yourself to question things, you became aware that nothing was fine. And the image you built shattered like glass against the concrete, breaking into million little pieces, you wouldn’t ever get back together. 

**1 year ago, winter**

_ Another day, another fight. As it was always with them recently. The rows turning into something nasty when he would remind of everything bad you ever did. _

_ “No, it’s not that” Theo hissed, his face coloured with angry red blotches, making him simply unattractive “You just think you’re right. You’re just stuck on him. You convinced yourself that you made him some sort of a favour. That he should be grateful. But you know it’s all bullshit you tell yourself to not crumple under all that guilt and misery you hold inside. That if you would allow these thoughts to come forward you would just shatter to pieces. But deep down you know that you rejected the most beautiful thing that could happen to you in your life. And this is the fucking way you are. Treating me and yourself like shit, deserving a bare minimum. But you know what?! I’m fucking done” _

_ Tim remained frozen, Theo’s words hitting the nail, punching where it hurt the most.  _

_ He thought he was thriving when in reality he was slowly dying inside. And the more he pretended, the deeper he sunk. Until there was no else to go than hitting the bottom.  _

* * *

  
  


The need to know the truth felt like a burden he wanted to carry. It clutched to him like ivy climbers, winding around him tightly. But even though it was a constant presence in his mind, he was reluctant to finally do something about it. As if the mere idea of wanting to know the truth was enough for him to not pursue more. 

But then his mind got so infected with it, drawing all different sorts of possibilities to the point, he just couldn’t stop. And he knew the only way out of spiralling into this craziness was to ask about it and know the truth. Or at least some of it. Which was why he stood in front of the door to Pauline’s apartment, wine bottle in hand, trying to come up with some good lines to start with, drawing a blank because everything sounded just bad. The only thing making him get through this was the fact it was Pauline, his sister, whatever dumb shit he would say, she wouldn’t be mad at him. Or so he hoped. 

Sometimes when he thought about his family knowing what he did, he wasn’t that sure of their reaction. They were all more than fond of Armie. He was a part of the family, even if Tim didn’t want to admit that to himself or anyone really for a long time, but just sometimes allowing the voice in his head to whisper it when there was only darkness sheathing him.

“Ooh you come with bribing items,” Pauline said, eyeing the bottle in his hand, opening the door further to let him inside. Bertie jumped on him the moment he stepped in, demanding cuddles and attention, butting his slimy snout into Tim’s palm. 

“Hey, you” Tim exclaimed happily, sinking down and stroking Bertie’s hair, in sure, long swipes alongside his spine and then scratching behind the ears, scruffing the head softly before getting back on his feet.

“I would treat you with one, but since I love the stuff and it’s my bribing gift I think you will survive with just a beer,” Pauline said, handing him a chilled bottle and moving swiftly to the side, rearranging herself on the couch, the wine glass securely in her tight grip. 

He clutched his own beverage, looking to not spill it accidentally on himself or the furniture, while sitting next to her, leaning over one corner of the sofa, crisscrossing his legs, leaving room for Bertie to curl between them. 

“So” Pauline drawled, twisting her neck to look at him more firmly, before changing her position to face him and not strain her neck muscles “What’s got you so twisted in knots dear brother of mine?”

Sometimes he thought Pauline’s directness was a curse. She always knew how to read him and get through all the layers he built within himself. Yet, it never mattered to her. He was an open book for her to pry and flicker around. 

This time though he was grateful for it. There was no need for him to make some small talk, about everything and nothing, while the need to know was eating him inside, making it impossible to focus on anything. 

“Is this about your trip? Spill the beans little brother, don’t leave me hanging” 

Tim was sure Pauline didn’t know anything, but her flippant tone felt almost cruel compared to his thoughts and feelings. To what his life had been these past three years. Her careless timber clutching deeper inside him, plunging its sharp claws in his flesh, until it bled. 

“Tim?” spoken softly this time, snatching him back from the darkness of his mind to the present. He gazed at her, from under his curls, perhaps a tad too long now, wondering what the hell he was doing here exactly. But before any rational thought could penetrate his overloaded mind, he blurted out.

“What’s with Armie?”

“What do you mean?!” she asked back, eyebrows scrunched in confusion

“Like what happened to him during these years? What was he doing?!” he asked, noticing the harsh and persistent edge of his voice.

“ _ Ooh _ ”

And there it was. The cat out of the bag. Tim still unsure of being relieved or more anxious about it. 

“I’m not sure I know anything, Timmy,” she said after prolonged hesitation, mindlessly petting Bertie’s hair back and forth “It’s not that he kept the same amount of contact. He was …” she faltered, her lips pressed in a thin line as if unsure how to phrase her thoughts “He wasn’t present you know. After everything that happened, after his mom's funeral, he became distant. Closed. Even when mom was inviting him, the few times he came and there weren’t many mind you, he was just not himself. You would have to ask mom because I wasn’t there much myself. And I have no idea how she managed to stay this close with him. She never said anything to me about it, even when I questioned her about it, simply out of curiosity.”

He nodded with no idea how to understand any of it.

“And Will?”

“I don’t know. One day I’ve just heard they were hanging out together a lot, that they were friends apparently and that’s about it. You should ask Zoe about it. Or mom. But I’m not sure mom will tell you anything without knowing the whole truth as well. And I have no idea what Zoe knows”

Somehow this made the urge to know inside him grow, but at the same time the feeling of uneasiness expanded, filled all the hollows and cracks, making him uncertain. His determination wavering. 

Because he would know what happened but the question was if he would like it. Or even more, if he could live with it.

* * *

  
  


Two days later, on yet another typical Thursday, the first email he opened was from Armie. Informing him about their second incoming trip that would happen next week. And it would be another two days. Somehow it put Tim even more at unease. Simply for the knowledge, he was digging into Armie’s life, intruding the peacefulness of it, scraping his dirty claws over the surface to get deeper. Even when he had no rights to do so. He could feel himself burning in shame about his tactics. How it was his decision to not be present in Armie’s life and yet, this unresolving urge had him asking questions he never should. 

His mind was filled with a foreign sort of anxiety. Not something he witnessed before. Because at the end nothing happened, he didn’t find out anything new from Pauline. But he felt guilt spreading, doubts sown in his mind. Once upon a time when he was still young and stupid, he thought that making up his mind wasn’t such a hard thing to do. And that people cheating, fucking up, not being able to decide were just stupid, weak assholes. That they didn’t know themselves. But then life had proven him it was not all that easy. It wasn’t just an A option or B option. It was all the ramifications they had and all the mess he already had in his head. Then he found out he was also an overthinker. Because his mind knew what was the best, most reasonable solution. But his soul had hopes on its own and that was were his problems laid. 

He wiggled in his seat, stretching his hands above his head, hearing his neck cracking. He was editing pictures he made on that first trip, trying to decide which ones would work the best and feeling slightly angry at himself because they didn’t look like he thought they would. Or rather how he wanted them to look. He could envision Armie being disappointed with him and his work. Another thing to add to the list of ‘ _ fails _ ’. 

He got up, cracked his neck once again and went to pour a bit of hot water over the remnants of his morning coffee. He stood there, leaned over the counter waiting for water in the kettle to boil when he caught commotion with the corner of his eye.

Looking up, his eyes locked on Armie. Standing there, looking for something in his pristine, white shirt, few buttons opened at the top, washed grey suit pants complementing it perfectly. Tim froze with his hands around his steamy mug, not even registering how his fingers started to burn from the heat and only then placing the coffee hastily back on the counter, swearing under his breath. When he poured cold water over them and wiped the access of liquid over the soft fabric of his pants, he looked up again searching for Armie. Their eyes met across the room, and as if Armie was looking strictly for him, he briskly started to move towards Tim, which only caused Tim’s heartbeat to quicken. 

“Hey”

“Good morning” Tim stuttered, grabbing the mug again for at least have something to do, something to occupy his hands with

“Just wanted to quickly ask you about two things. Did you get my mail and how you stand with those pictures from the last trip?”

“Yeah, yeah I did get your mail” he responded trying to straighten up his mind, focusing on work and being a professional. “I’m looking through and editing those I’ve got, I will send the first draft to you tomorrow”

Even though it meant having to swallow the bile of disappointment when he looked at them and working till he couldn’t see anymore today. But as they say, misfortunes come in pairs. 

“No, it’s fine, it’s fine. I was just checking with you since I was literally flooded with work this past couple of days.”

Tim nodded in understanding, lost at words with how to comment on Armie's remark. It was literally his boss explaining himself as if Tim could even contradict him or do anything beside accepting his words. 

“Also, do you have time next week? I wanted to meet for a quick chat about the next trip” Armie said after a bit of silence, the facade of professionalism held in place, his tone neutral and almost warm as if he was speaking to yet another co-worker that never meant to him anything more. 

“Yeah sure. I mean whichever day suits you best, I can — “ he halted, the rest of his words being stuck somewhere around his throat because a beautiful woman appeared next to them and Tim immediately recognized her, even if he never met here before.

“I was looking everywhere for you,” she said, making Armie turn towards her, smiling and letting her kiss him chastity on the lips in a manner of greeting. 

Tim stood frozen in place when she turned to face him, her mouth curled in a gentle and pleasant smile before she pulled out her hand in his direction and said

“Hey, I’m Lu”

Tim shook her hand, giving her a weak smile, feeling like he was being swallowed by a huge black hole with no possibility to escape.


	13. Chapter 13

**_4 weeks later_ **

If Tim ever entertained the idea that it would all just sort out spontaneously, he was sorely mistaken. Most of the time he felt like he was stuck in limbo. Nothing was wrong, but the situation hadn’t been cleared and it weighed on him, more than he could have ever imagined. There was a time when he was convinced the best solution was to forget, to let it all fade away into the deepest corner of his memories and just live. But it turned out he couldn’t. It turned out whenever he looked in his mom’s eyes he wondered what she would think of him knowing the truth. It turned out when he met with Pauline for a quick chat he pondered if she would still be there for him, aware of all the circumstances. It turned out when he stumbled on Will, he amused himself with the possibility of stopping him and straight-forward asking. Until he realized there wasn’t anything funny about being a coward. 

And then. There was also Armie. 

Armie with his wonderful and amazing girlfriend Lu, who was witty, funny and sarcastic. Armie with his project, enthusiasm and energy to get it through. Armie with his new behaviour towards Tim. Somehow warmer. More open. It hadn’t happened overnight, but somewhere along the way with more working hours they spent together bent over new proposals, with laptops and tablets picking up the perfect pictures it changed. It had made Tim happy. Ecstatic even. Thinking, perhaps it would work out, would get better. Maybe even to the point as it used to be between them. But then when they were working late yet again, Armie offhandedly responded to Tim’s question about Lu, admitting it was her idea for them to spend more time on this project. To work harder, longer. In other words, it was Lu who encouraged Armie to change his behaviour. Perhaps that was his turning point. When his hopes shattered, and his insides cracked a bit further, knowing that nothing would be different. Not now. Not ever.  _ If _ he wouldn’t do anything to change it. 

But as it happened before — easier said than done. 

It was late and he could feel his eyelids falling down every now and then, while he kept on prying them open. He was trying to arrange texts and pictures how Armie wanted it, how he explained to him many hours before. But for Tim something always wasn’t right, so he kept on changing and adding, moving and deleting, until he had many  _ man _ y drafts of the same thing but not even one that satisfied him. The empty bottles of energy drinks were scattered around him, alongside them a half-filled cup of coffee he hadn’t drunk because it tasted like diluted cat shit. He chugged the rest of his water, blinking a couple of times to see the screen clearer. His stomach rumbled unpleasantly, reminding him the last meal he had was five hours ago and it was some protein bar he snatched on his way to work. Not that it was unexpected. He tended to forget to take breaks, to eat and even drink sometimes when his mind got fixated on work. These several hours reminded him painfully as he once loved it all. Getting lost in the session, the beauty that laid in working with people, seeing all the textures, shapes and angles bloom to live in front of his lens. The hours spent with his laptop or in the darkroom, his muscles silently protesting. It was an accomplishment he felt every time he had finished, a weird sense of proudness blossoming in his chest. 

* * *

“You still here?”

“Jesus fucking Christ” Tim exclaimed, jumping from his seat, spooked by Armie’s sudden appearance, he was breathing heavily, a hand spread over his chest exactly where his heart was beating fast as if it could burst out from his chest in a second.

“Sorry,” Armie said sheepishly, getting closer and leaning over an unoccupied desk “Didn’t mean to startle you. I thought there was no one here beside me and the security, but then I saw light here and wanted to check”

“No, it’s fine it’s fine. I was just working on the last batch of photographs”

“Didn’t I tell you that you don’t have to overwork yourself?” Armie asked, a soft, gentle smile curving his lips, his tone carrying an edge of worry, making Tim’s insides flutter in delight. 

“Yeah, yeah you did. I guess I’ve just got lost track of time” 

“Happens to the best of us. But it’s very late and you should head home”

“Yeah, I think I wouldn’t have done anything else, even if I tried. Just gonna clear things a little” he jerked his head towards his cluttered desk, smiling a bit bashfully. Armie nodded at him, his eyes glinting with contentment and something Tim couldn’t name. But before he could wish him ‘ _a_ _good night_ ’ and disappear, Tim’s empty stomach gave a loud rumble, obnoxiously deafening in the silent space. Armie chuckled next to him as if delighted with the sound, his laughter joyful and warm, making a mush out of Tim’s brain cells.

“Come one, let’s go get something to eat”

Such an offer Tim simply couldn’t deny. 

They went to the near place Armie swore to be delicious, not even letting Tim order or pay for himself, simply shrugging and saying ‘ _ my treat _ ’. Bewildering Tim even more after asking for ‘ _ take out _ ’, having good, unoccupied tables and chairs around, ready to use. 

“Trust me,” Armie said at Tim’s puzzled expression, his brows furrowed in confusion and Tim was more than happy to oblige. It felt almost as what they had before. The easy banter, the stupid jokes, the never-ending need to be together and just talk, as if there was nothing more important than this minute, this instant, this moment they were together. They went outside with a white, plastic bag full of greasy, hot food, Tim’s mouth watering at the smell.

Armie placed the food cautiously on the bench, but instead of sitting in a normal, civilised way, he graciously crawled on the back of the bench and sat right there, beckoning Tim to do the same thing, before unwrapping the food and digging in with a delicious moan. If not for Tim’s self-restraint, he would surely gape at Armie before doing something even more stupid. Like kissing him right then and there. Instead, he unwrapped his food, letting the delicious scent to wrap around him, before sinking his teeth and having a huge bite. 

They ravished their burgers in record time, the silence disturbed only by the loud chewing and slurping noises. Butterflies exploded in Tim’s stomach when Armie crunched down and spread the fries on a few napkins for them to share. All because sharing fries was  _ their _ thing. Opting to not dwell on it and just enjoy the moment, he snatched one and popped it into his mouth with a smack.

He wondered briefly why Armie seemed to be content sitting here with him. Completely not in hurry to get back to his apartment. To his girlfriend. Intrigued, but unwilling to ruin the atmosphere, he decided to say nothing. He sat there quietly, pleased for having Armie all for himself, feeling a little bit smug about it. Or maybe more than a little bit. 

When there was nothing left, the last fry disappearing between Armie’s lips, Tim knew their accidental dinner was coming to the end. There was a lot of truth in the saying ‘ _ good things end quickly _ ’. 

“Oh fuck I needed that. It was delish” he said, reluctant to make it awkward. Trying to not think about their past, even though it was a burden he had to carry around. He could unwillingly ruin the mood seeing things that simply weren’t there.

“Me too” Armie sighed heavily but his voice was filled with content. He cleaned the greasiness coating his fingers with napkins, squashing them into a ball and throwing into the paper bag with the rest of the trash. “I’m also very fucking tired”

“Same dude. I think my neck will never feel the same” Armie chuckled and Tim felt proud of making this stupid joke, just a little bit funny to make Armie smile. 

“So no plans for today than sleeping?” Armie asked and if that didn’t sound like an invitation for Tim. 

_ Dude, get a grip _

“First I need to get back to feed my cat, and then — ”

“You have a cat?!” Armie asked bewildered, a bit of tomato sauce sticking from the corner of his lips, tempting Tim to lean and lick it

“Yeah” he nodded, still mesmerized by Armie’s mouth

“And how that even happened?!”

“I found her on the street. She was just a little kitten and someone had to get rid of her”

“Fuck, the asshole really. But most folks would just leave her in a shelter.”

“I mean, honestly, that was my plan, but she just kept on following me, looking at me with those big, gorgeous eyes of hers and how I could say no to that?! Impossible”

“You big softie” 

“Ah shut up you, fucker. You would just sit on the ground cooing to get her attention. But lemme tell you she’s fierce and moody, I think she knows what she wants so she usually gets it. You know food and all. But she’s amazing in her unique way of being a cat. And it’s nice to get home to someone. You still have Archie?” Tim asked before he could stop himself, words spilling from his mouth thoughtlessly. He immediately looked down, not ready to see emotions flicker across Armie’s face. It was the first time they —  _ he  _ — breached the subject of their past, in much indirect and positive manner.

“Yeah, he is still with us. Poor lad. Sometimes I think he really had had enough. And with Sophie around, his life has to be a real hell”

“Don’t dramatise”

“I’m not. You just didn’t see how she pulls his hair or his tail” 

Tim couldn’t hear any weariness in Armie’s voice, as if this question hadn’t affected him in the slightest. But he already realized he didn’t know Armie anymore. He wouldn’t know if anything was different. He wouldn’t feel it. He recently learnt Armie was better at hiding his emotions behind a mask as if it was some sort of survival mechanism he had to adapt into his life. Almost as if he had to.

* * *

  
  


**3 years ago**

_ He woke up feeling out of place. The bed was too big and the sheets were too soft. He was also hot, his body burning which didn’t happen at all to him. Odder was the arm swung over his midsection, pinning him heavily to the bed. He blinked a couple of times, adjusting his eyes to the light, his mind on a crazy, endless spin. What the ever-loving fuck had he done?!  _

_ He turned his head slightly to the left, his eyes staring at the golden threads of Armie’s hair peeking out from the comforter. His head on Tim’s shoulder, breath tickling Tim’s skin, mouth slightly open. Tim felt the pang of hurt in his chest at the sight. This was what he dreamt of. Waking up next to Armie, feeling his body against his, brushing their lips together before kissing him, with all the drowsiness and sleepiness, morning breath included, with satiation and satisfaction of just being here with him.  _

_ But it wasn’t true. None of it. Armie just sought out comfort, someone to hold onto in one painful moment of his life. And Tim was just there, ready and open. When Armie would wake up, he would admit it was a mistake and they should forget about it. He would admit he didn’t mean that to happen, breaking Tim’s heart. He could feel tears prickling his eyes, but he forbade himself to break down now. He shuffled a bit, leaning down and kissing the top of Armie’s head, relishing the scent of him for the last time, his nose pressed close, breathing in. He pulled away reluctantly, gently peeling off Armie’s arm of himself and pushing him a bit to the right. He stood up and started to move quickly, snatching his clothes from the floor, pulling the garments haphazardly on himself, until he was at least half-dressed. One last time he glanced at Armie’s shape hidden under crumpled sheets, his chest slowly rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing. The ache in his heart sharpened and intensified, his legs almost giving in under the weight of everything he felt. With the last shred of effort, he opened the door and sneaked out, closing them with a soft click that reverberated inside him like a peal of thunder.  _

**Present**

One day it all tumbled down as it was supposed to even if Tim refused to think about it. He wanted to prolong the superficial truce which fell between him, his family and friends. Nothing was said or explained, he just shuffled it all back under the carpet deciding to forget about it altogether, even though he could trip over that huge bump any time. But somehow he refused to acknowledge its existence. Thinking perhaps as he did so, everyone else also would.

He couldn’t be more mistaken.

It was a pub night and for the first time, Tim felt agog for the evening. Excitement bubbling in his veins as he thought it would be like in old times. It was almost like the dinner with Armie was a turning point from which everything would only get better. As if he could change the future without ever addressing the past. That was a very thrilling thought. But also a very foolish one. Prominent indicator how disoriented he was, never working through all the things that happened, just wishing them away, believing what he was doing was enough. Forgetting there was no growth without dealing with your actions first. But he was scared,  _ terrified _ about it. Somehow shuffling it all under a hypothetical carpet was all he could do. 

The first sign that things wouldn’t go as good Tim expected was Will, sitting with the bunch of them sipping his beer from the bottle, casually spread over the armchair. 

_ His favourite one _

As Tim remembered. Suddenly he didn’t want to be there. He wanted to hide. Disappear. For ground to swallow him. 

Yet, he stood there frozen, his legs stuck in place, glued to the floor until finally Will’s eyes snapped up and met his across the room. Which was as bizarre as it sounded. There was no tentative smile or an acknowledging nod from Will. His eyes bore into Tim’s, stating clearly it wasn't a reconciliation visit. That he wasn’t there to talk and straighten things out. He was there to torment him, to remind him by his presence alone that even though the rest of the group forgave Tim, he hadn’t. Even though they were so keen on getting along and leaving the past in the past, he wasn’t. 

Tim swallowed, his throat constricting against the dryness in his mouth. It wasn’t a good idea, yet he took the step after step getting closer, his heart beating faster in his chest, pushing against his ribs in a rattling rhythm. He slipped on a casual smile, a mask that came up so easily, after all, he had done it many times before. It was like slipping on the perfect pair of shoes. 

“Hey guys,” he said, greeting them all, breathing a little bit easier only when Zoe approached him, giving him a hug and squeezing his waist. 

The second sign came not much later. Will simply refused to accept Tim’s presence there. He ignored him, he gave silence after Tim said anything and he never looked in his direction nor responded to anything Tim may have directed at him. Which you know ‘ _ awkward _ ’. It was as if Tim didn’t exist. The chair staying unoccupied, the drink placed there for a simple mistake.

Unknown even to himself, Tim kept on trying. On including Will in conversion, on not giving up, on having a good time and most importantly on having his hopes high. Perhaps, he thought since everything was going so well lately, he could at least try. But he miscalculated the risks. Terribly. 

He saw Will standing up and going outside, seizing his opportunity, he went after him, deciding it was the only time he would get Will alone. He shivered as he stepped outside, the coldness as sharp needles riddling his skin. Will was to his right, leaned over the wall, the cigarette dangling from his hand, gripped between his middle and forefinger. He looked lost in his thoughts as if he hadn’t noticed Tim moving closer, but then he spoke

“I thought I was clear enough I want nothing to do with you”

It could be the third sign for Tim, to just let go and try another time. But as the two before that one, he ignored it and dived in without hesitation, undeterred by Will’s prominent reluctance, high on his recent accomplishments.

“I wanted to talk with you” Tim simply stated, halting a few inches in front of him

“So I wasn’t clear after all” Will commented with a voice full of anger and bitterness. 

“I think we need to talk Will” a humourless smile escaped Will’s lips, cold and livid 

“Oh, well of course if  _ you _ think we should, we most certainly have to. Fuck the fact I wanted to talk before. The almighty king wants now and I shall obey” 

“There’s no need to be facetious” 

A hollow laugh was the only remark from Will he got. Deciding it was pointless to go on like this, he moved onto what he really wanted to say.

“Listen, I’m just ... I know I fucked up. I know I wasn’t there for you guys. I know that I’ve let you down, and with new people around me, new friends. Like … I really didn’t want this to happen”

“You think it’s because you got yourself new friends?!” Will asked and his words were followed by a bitter laugh “Jesus Tim, I couldn’t give a flying fuck about you having new friends there. It was because you’ve let me know at any time how much better they were than me. The rich new friends, with big dreams and big pockets.”

“I never —“

“Oh fuck you” Will cut him off “You knew what they were and you didn’t give a damn. And the bitter truth is that you wanted to be like them so there wasn’t any space for your pathetic childhood friends there. They would ruin your image.”

“That’s not true, I was never ashamed of you”

“You know what Timo?” Will sighed, his voice carrying a defeated tone, “I don’t care anymore. You once again fail to see that it’s not about you, but about us. About what we felt. You didn’t try to make it better, you were glad we stopped pestering you, that we stopped trying to be in touch, be your friends. And now you come here because it didn’t work out as you wanted it to. But sorry to disappoint you, I’m not gonna go back to how things were before just because you lost after you treated me like shit all this time.”

He angrily moved past him, making Tim reel back with the force of his steps. Leaving him alone with the ache in his chest that wouldn't cease.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, let me apologize for the delay. So many things are happening right now in my life, that even though I had the chapter in 3/4 written I've struggled to finish it and edit. A lot! The pandemic, the protests happening here rn, personal problems, it was a struggle. But it is here at last and I hope you will like it! I really do!  
> Second of all, let me thank you all again for all the amazing comments I get from you! It's just wonderful to read that so many like this story, what to know what happens next and can't wait for the update! Thank you!  
> Lastly, a warning - it might not be perfect, it may have some stupid mistakes, so I apologize for them and treat it kindly!
> 
> PS: I hope all that timeline is not confusing!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's way later than I wanted. I also had a hard time to get any words out so it's not the best, but well that's what it is!  
> Thank you all for the comments! I'm all good now and will try to get back to normal writing! And move this story forward! 
> 
> *all mistakes are obviously mine, be gentle though

At some point in his life, Tim lost his belief in everything he counted as certain and sure. The fundamentals of the person he was crumbled down, leaving only dust and rubble. For as long as he could remember he wasn’t just Tim. Who he was didn’t just belong to him. It was a side product of everyone in his life. He was Timothee — Nicole and Marc’s son, he was Timmy — Pauline’s brother, he was Tim — Will’s childhood friend. And so on and on and on. They formed a huge part of who he was and who he wanted to be. With no one around, he realized he no longer knew who he was. 

He was sitting in his parent’s living room, his mom’s and Paulien’s chatter buzzing in the background, mulling over Will’s words. Was he really this selfish egoistic asshole?! He had never seen it like that. Or perhaps he had but never allowed himself to sink too deep into that thought, afraid of guilt. At the same time, he knew Will was right. At least partially. He felt relieved when they stopped pestering him, when they just left him there, alone. But it wasn’t for the reason Will thought it was. And Tim was hit with a sudden realization that if he ever wished for things to get back to something resembling normality between Will and him, he would have to tell the truth and speak with him. The flutter of dread couldn’t even soothe the presumption that Will knew everything. Because Armie told him. 

To top all of that his next trip with Armie was approaching. He hadn’t even dealt with their accidental dinner and the whirl of emotions it had awoken in him. He wasn’t even sure to able to work close to Armie and not let his thoughts wander what would Armie do if he just leaned closing the gap between them and kissed him? It was a treacherous territory and he could easily slip. Not for the first time in all those weeks, the idea of contacting his former therapist crossed his mind. But he wasn’t exactly sold on phone-calls or online sessions, knowing at the same time finding anyone around here would be damn near impossible. 

The whirlwind of his thoughts was violently faltered, by a pillow smashing into his face.

“You looked like you needed it,” Pauline said in a mock of explanation and he had a sudden urge to stick out his tongue at her, childishly. 

“Thanks ever so” she rolled her eyes at his response, plopping down unceremoniously next to him, forcing him to scoot over, making room for her. 

“So what’s going on in that crazy, little head of yours?”

“Why do you think anything is going on there?”

“So you admit you’re an idiot whose brain doesn’t function?” she asked, chuckling to herself, following with “Maybe don’t answer that”

“Ass”

“Oooh you flutterer,” she said winking at him, making him burst in a peal of laughter “Now, pray tell, what got you in so many twists that mom haggled me to talk to you or I won’t get any leftovers”

He snorted and she shoved him playfully as a payback.

“You better spill bro. Or else you would be the one responsible for my lack of food”

“You could cook something for yourself you know”

“Oooh look who we got here, mister smartypants”

“Ouch, you didn’t have to hit me”

“You deserved it. Now, stop changing the subject. I need my cheesecake for tomorrow's dessert.”

He raised eyebrows at her words, she just shrugged, shooting him a shit-eating grin. But he didn’t quite know what he was supposed to say. His thoughts were pure chaos, he, himself couldn’t even sort through them. 

“Is it work? Is it Armie? Is it Will?” she inquired further catching on his hesitancy 

The truth was all of what she said and more. 

“Everything” he finally settled on and she sighed deeply, leaving over the back of the couch, getting quiet for some time.

“You know Tim I’ve always admired how much of yourself you were giving to people you cared about, and how heedless you were with your pursuits. You always got fixated on something and you wouldn’t get distracted. Which usually ended badly when things got out from your hands and you didn’t know what to do. You just see this whole, big picture, but you forget it’s all made from little, colourful squares. I know you don’t want to say anything to me. Don’t even try to deny” she added seeing him opening his mouth to object “But, what I’m trying to say is — one step at a time. It’s like with that worsted our gran made us smooth. You take a bit of it, you untwist it and then you move to the next part doing exactly the same thing until you have all of that yarn smoothly wrapped around your fingers. Because if you keep staring at that twisted chaos, you will see just it. Chaos.”

* * *

Things weren’t progressively getting worse. They weren’t getting better either. They just were and Tim didn’t quite know how to move from there. He was hamstrung, unable to decide. Pauline was right of course. He was too focused on how his life had gone haywire, literally unable to pick one thing at a time. Everything needed to be fixed. To be sorted out. To be cleared. He was overborne with those thoughts to the point that even deciding on what to do first was insurmountable. So he kept on doing nothing, settling into this new sort of tranquillity, that only grew in him, eerily making him more anxious. Because it could all go to hell in the next second. It was a restless sort of peace. 

He blinked at his computer screen, feeling overwhelmingly tired even if he hadn’t done anything. It was just deeply settled fatigue he couldn’t shake off, making his limbs heavy and achy, making him ready to go home and fall asleep, to crawl deep under the sheets and forget an outside world existed. 

But he couldn’t. His next trip with Armie was getting closer and he was still behind with work, being a perfectionist, unable to settle with a poorly done job. It was why he had an additional meeting with Armie tomorrow, with all the drafts he managed to make, helpless to decide which one of them was the best. Armie, on the other hand, wanted to have it done and over before the next trip, perhaps to have a free mind for the next location. 

That unexpected train of thoughts reminded him he was supposed to send Armie an email with all the drafts included and shot Jack a text he wouldn’t be going out with him after all to the club in the nearby city since the meeting could get prolonged. And frankly, he preferred to spend time with Armie, even working, than going out to some club and getting hit on. Jack had already declared he should get laid. Tim agreed with himt, not remembering the last time it happened, but he was also aware that none would be enough. Because none would be Armie. 

And if  _ that _ on its own wasn’t an enormous problem. 

Writing the text seemed like an easier task, yet he still stared at his phone for a couple of seconds, typing and deleting, not quite sure how to explain things to Jack. He would see right through him if he would mention Armie, and he really didn't want another person knowing how pathetic he was. 

He glanced at the clock, deciding it was time to go home, rest and mentally prepare for tomorrow’s meeting as well as the trip that seemed to be a bit longer than their previous ones. Why, Tim wasn’t sure because Armie, as usually, hadn't said a word so far. But he knew it would be about 4 days. Way too much to spend around Armie with his thoughts all over the place.

Having sent the email, he switched the computer off and went back home, letting Romy lick his face and settle in the crook of his neck, soothing his nerves just a tiny bit.

* * *

The meeting turned out to be uneventful and he got back home way early he expected speaking volumes about his state of mind if work was more enticing than chilling at home. Armie picked the draft, had to stop in the middle when his phone started to buzz for the third time in a row and Tim made a  _ ‘go on _ ’ gesture when it turned out to be Lu. It was just his luck to be stuck there listening to their sweet-talking. Then Armie rushed through the three drafts he had chosen, pointing out what he still wanted to change and then didn’t have enough time for trip details, already having something urgent to do. He left Tim standing there in the middle of his office, quite pathetically, with his arms hanging down his sides, cursing his own readiness and longing.

_ 2.5 years ago _

_ He was high. It was the most glorious state he could be in at the moment. His brain pleasantly fuzzy and nothing seemed to be important. Everything was fun and he was smiling like a lunatic.  _

_ He swallowed the shot, barely even tasting the sourness of the alcohol. It was all a blur which he welcomed with open arms. He went back to the middle of the room, letting the music flow through him, swaying his hips, dancing only for himself. He felt invincible. It was a simply marvellous feeling.  _

_ He opened his eyes when he felt someone’s fingers skimming down his arms. He let himself be manhandled and soon he was grinding back against some man, his lips already nipping at Tim’s exposed neck. It almost tasted like freedom.  _

_ Almost. _

_ He wasn’t sure what made him open his eyes, maybe the way the guy was nibbling at his earlobe or the words he was saying into Tim’s ear that were lost in the noise of the club. He froze, his body stiff and rigid, the alcohol a mere seconds ago thrumming in his veins, evaporating instantly. _

_ The posture, the blond hair, the soft smile. His body moved on its own accord, getting closer, heart hammering in his chest, ready to get out and soar into the air. He couldn’t believe it. Armie here?! Of all the places. But the guy was looking just like him, he was even leaning over the bartop the same way. The blood was rushing in his ears, his hands already trembling. He grabbed him, Armie’s name on his lips, when the man turned to face him, surprised and startled.  _

_ “Sorry” he whispered finally at the man’s furrowed brows, before jostling his way out of the club. _

* * *

He was tired, deep to the bone exhausted. He couldn’t sleep at night at all, tossing and turning for hours on no end, unwilling to admit his defeat. When he looked in the mirror that morning his hair was flat and a bit greasy, and he had massive bags under his eyes, he couldn’t even be bothered to cover them. He hopped for a quick shower that hadn’t helped his state of mind, but at least made his body clean, and then adamantly forced coffee into himself, his stomach tight with knots, reluctant to be filled with any food.

He was happy, Romy was already at Pauline’s because she would shoot him a million questions why he looked like he did. To which he didn’t want to answer, mostly because he hadn’t had any answers. He got his stuff closer to the door, sending Armie a text he was ready just as he was asked the day before. Tim was a little bit restless with the knowledge of Armie knowing where he was living. And even more with Armie standing right here in his apartment. 

> _ I’m on my way _

He tried to breathe, willing his body to relax a bit. Unsure why he was in this constant state of anxiety and worry. Nothing happened. Not really. Nothing would happen on that trip, either. Yet, his mind was in shambles. 

The doorbell jolted him out of his own thoughts, he cursed himself for being unprepared, coming to the door to let Armie in. He smiled at him warmly, walking inside.

“Nice, place you have here,” he said, gazing around the living room, looking befitting and out of place at the same time. His big frame overtaking the space. It was more than odd to have him there since Tim never allowed himself to even fantasize about such a thing. Now he was sure it would spur the other type of fantasies. The ones he willed himself to not have. Futilely most of the time.

“You ready?” Armie finally asked, turning around and facing him, a curious quirk of his eyebrows telling Tim he saw something, but wouldn’t tell what. There was also a soft smile playing on his lips like he was happy to just be here. With Tim. And that was another set of unallowed thoughts, that were passing through the walls of his defence, sneaking between the cracks and appearing, each time with more frequency. As much as Tim tried to convince himself they weren’t true, something always held him back. A flicker of hope perhaps. That one last burning flame that even a consistent lack of oxygen couldn’t put out. 

“Yeah. Better let’s get going” 

He promised himself to not read too much of anything Armie would do or say. But he knew it was just a valiant effort. Something he wouldn’t succeed in. The upcoming four days seemed like the sweetest torture. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> First of all, I'm so so so sorry for being so late with the update! December was mad. And then January of 2021 hit us all right. I very much intend to finish this story. However, I don't know how much it will take me. I will try to be more regular with updates but sometimes the muse isn't there.  
> I hope you will like this chapter and I hope you will still be there for the next one! Happy New Year (I know I'm very fucking late) and stay safe and healthy.
> 
> PS: I just wanted to remind you all (I hope it's not that necessary but I still want to do it) that this is fiction. Those characters are fiction. I've just taken the real people, the names and their looks and placed them where I wanted, creating a story that I wanted. Therefore, it's still not real.

The hours went on as they were driving forward. Armie was content with just listening to the radio, humming under his breath from time to time. Tim’s restlessness finally settled into something slowly simmering underneath the skin. Not so prominent yet still present. 

He had his head propped on the seat, idly looking at the passing countryside, his mind buzzing with thoughts he had no desire to deal with, other than letting them swirl around and around. They were persistent, stubbornly stuck in his head, so he just let himself have them. He drifted off a couple of times, in that state between conscious and unconscious, not fully asleep but not awake either. Always waking up when his head bumped against the seat. He glanced at Armie’s profile from time to time, looking away quickly to not be caught staring. There was a time when they wouldn’t pass a day without some sort of contact, messages were more than frequent. Armie a bright colourful spot in his more or less monochromatic life. At that exact moment, befuddled and disorientated, he longed for Armie’s hug. For those long arms to be wrapped around him, shielding him from the outside world, letting the warmth radiate and spread through his body, until everything would go away. But as it happened with wishes, they rarely came true.

* * *

  
  


Tim blinked. Shook his head, unsure if he was perhaps still dreaming. He closed his eyes and opened them again, but nothing had changed. He was still standing in the room, facing two twin beds, Armie’s belongings already on one of them. 

_ Fuck _

Dread rose inside him. On previous trips, he could at least go to his room and hide there, breathe for a bit without Armie being somewhere around, possibly looking at him. Escaping, at least for a couple of hours, the ever-present chance to be scrutinized. But there was no space here to do such a thing. Nowhere to slip when things would get just a tad too heavy for his own liking. Besides acting like a drama queen and locking himself in the bathroom — and that obviously wasn’t an option. Not the mature one for sure.

At least he was spared with ‘ _ there was only one-bed _ ’ cliche. Thank God for small mercies.

It was, quite surprisingly, the first trip they hadn’t any work scheduled for the arriving day. Which Tim concluded was because after all these hours in the car, in Armie’s case driving (and not only drifting on and off like Tim spent all that time), it was wise to not add anything else. Some time to just rest sounded delightfully. Well at least up until Armie hadn’t come out from the bathroom with only a towel wrapped prudently around his waist, a sheepish blush colouring his cheeks, looking completely edible. He mumbled something about forgetting his clothes, but Tim wasn’t really listening, too occupied with the sight before him. Memorising in the span of seconds how much Armie’s body had changed. Resisting the urge to get up and skim his fingers over the golden skin, brush them against the hoarse hair present there. 

Luckily, before Tim could embarrass himself, producing some inappropriate noises, Armie grabbed his clothes, shutting himself in the bathroom again. Reappearing not long after, fully clothed, feigning nonchalance, almost distractedly saying ‘ _ Bathroom is free, if you want’ _ to Tim. But there were still some remnants of stiffness in the set of his shoulders, in the state of his facial muscles. Tim nodded, getting up and heading to the bathroom, remembering to get his own clothes to change into.

Apparently, Armie had other plans for them for the evening. Tim mistakenly assumed they would stay in the room, maybe watch something on the tv, but mostly keep quiet and to themselves, poking in their phones or something, since tomorrow they had things scheduled and Armie always wanted to be on top of his game. But he was rather unwilling to lay in bed for the rest of the day (or night), insisting they should go out. And honestly who was Tim to say ‘ _ no _ ’ to that. He was just a weak  _ weak  _ human. 

So they changed from the sweatpants and hoodies they had thrown on after a shower and headed downstairs to the lobby. Figuring it was about time to eat something they moved to the hotel's restaurant. They both had ordered burgers, Armie with some additional bacon because that was a classic and they were practically starving by the time the food arrived. Tim didn’t let himself be pulled by memories threatening to overwhelm him as to how eerily similar it all looked to how they once were. There was nothing good awaiting him there. 

Satisfied and sated they moved to the bar, still not quite certain what to do. The hotel looked really good, at least compared to the previous ones, Tim mused while Armie ordered a drink for both of them. Biting the inside of his cheek when OJ vodka mix was placed in front of him. He was really going to combust on this trip.

“I wanted to do something today, but I’m feeling really fucking tired” Armie confessed after the second round of drinks was placed in front of them. Tim hummed agreeably, placing the glass on the counter. It was still half-filled, but he wasn’t inclined to finish it. He had enough.

“Let’s go to our room then” he suggested, not allowing his thoughts to wonder on how exactly the words ‘ _ our room _ ’ affected him and what things they could do there. 

“Yeah” Armie agreed with velvety-like voice, Tim almost shivered, but soon his thoughts were crushed down when Armie added “You go first, I’m gonna call Lu first” 

Just like that Tim was dismissed and he couldn’t really stop the ache spreading from his heart. He knew he was no one, but knowing and being shown were two different things. With a tender heart, he made his way upstairs, promising to himself — albeit a bit deceitfully — he would stop hoping. There was nothing good awaiting him there. Armie wasn’t giving him any mixed-signals, it was all in Tim’s head and he should just stop. 

When Armie got back, Tim had already brushed his teeth and changed into his pyjamas. Armie nodded at him, smiling a bit bashfully as if surprised and startled with seeing Tim under the sheets. Swearing to at least try to be fair to his decision, he hadn’t sought Armie’s attention or contact. He shuffled a bit after they shut the lights off, getting comfortable on an unfamiliar bed. He caught a pensive look on Armie’s face, eyebrows scrunched, crinkle formed between his eyes, but dismissed it as the product of his imagination. He snuggled under the blanket and willed the sleep to overcome him. 

* * *

They went through the morning mechanically. Getting up, dressing, eating breakfast and preparing stuff before leaving. They weren’t talking much and Tim wasn’t sure if he was happy about it or not. It was easier to not let himself hope for things when he wasn’t engaging with Armie at all, but the strained silence wasn’t as welcome as he thought it would be. He breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived at the location. But his ease was short-lived, when their guide arrived, putting him more on edge than before. The woman was simply stunning, pleasant and smiling, chattering easily while giving them a short tour around the property. 

He wasn’t jealous, that was sure. Armie had a girlfriend and he wasn’t the type to flirt with people just for the sake of it while being in the relationship. At least not consciously. Armie was always a very tactile person, he loved human contact and company. No. It wasn't jealousy. It had been the sudden memories that assaulted him. The flashbacks of a different life with an uncanny resemblance to the situation. The woman wasn’t even similar, at least not in a matter of looks and behaviour. The only thing that caused him this reaction was how suddenly all Armie cared about was her. His eyes glued to her, she had all of his attention. It was almost a visceral reaction and somehow he was unable to shake it off.

**8 years ago, fall**

_ Beautiful.  _

_ That was the first thought he had after seeing her. He wasn’t alone in that remark. Everyone’s eyes were trailing after her yet she seemed unfazed of the attention. But then something more than her looks caught his eye.  _

_ The sweater. He knew that sweater very well and he didn’t have to wonder what news Armie had for him. It became obvious when he looked at his direction and saw his arm wrapped around her waist.  _

_ He clenched his teeth and he turned around. He wasn’t prepared to face them.  _

_ It was just a stupid sweater. Yet, it was a lot more than that. Timmy knew.  _

The day Heather was gone was one of the best days of his life. Even if Armie was a bit miserable. But even though she was gone she left something behind. The persistent and unwelcomed thought that he simply wasn’t enough. It stayed with him for a long time. Or perhaps it never went away. 

He closed his eyes, willing the troubling thoughts away. As always there was nothing good waiting for him in the depths of the past. Only squandered chances and numerous  _ ‘what ifs’ _ . He got his camera out, clearing his mind as best as he could, setting to work. Determined to take the best shots of this goddamn place.

* * *

There was awful, defeating silence on their way back to the hotel. Tim was still deep in his own thoughts. The little encounter had awakened something in him he thought he buried a long time ago. But like most things in his life he hadn’t dealt with it properly. Just refused to think about it, mounting the layers of indifference over it and repeating to himself ‘ _ all was good _ ’. 

_ The lies _ he told himself until he believed. 

He could feel Armie’s questioning and concerned gaze from the driver’s seat. But he was so immensely tired that even faking a smile and stupid chitchat to assure Armie everything was fine, seemed as too much. 

They ate in silence back in their rooms, comfy in their pyjama pants. The silence between them stretching like an elastic band with all the palpable tension in the air. Still, when Tim closed his eyes and willed his mind to settle down and let him sleep, there were no answers awaiting him. Nor any possible solutions, only the growing need and desire he could no longer deny. 

**9 years ago, fall**

_ He clutched his notes tightly, trying to push through the crowd, being already late. It wasn't particularly important, mostly because he still hadn’t moved past his own insecurities and wasn’t the main part of the group. But he still wanted to be there. If only for one big reason.  _

_ He hurried in, unceremoniously shoving the notes inside his backpack, slightly out of breath. He brushed the curls out of his face, scanning the room until his eyes landed on Armie. The smile that spread over his face wasn’t unexpected, but he wasn’t ready to vet what exactly it meant, hurrying towards the corner Armie occupied.  _

_ “Sup Timo” Armie nodded in acknowledgement when Tim stopped in front of him and the little circle of his admirers (well other students that were working with him on this project, but who cares, they were staring at him like he was a prey … which yeah Tim could understand well enough).  _

_ He was still a little awkward around Armie, not to mention other people in school. It was just … how he was. It always took him time to become open to people. But once he did, there was like a dam was finally broken and all of the traits of his personality were thrown out. He wasn’t on that stage with Armie. Not yet. At least he hoped he would be at some point. Even though from what he could observe so far Armie was just friendly and open with everyone, not only with him. Not to mention most of them had a crush on him. Which yeah totally understandable.  _

_ Shaking his head and willing the thoughts away, he moved to the left corner. Throwing his backpack there and moving to the front where the rest of them were already gathered waiting for directions.  _


End file.
